Of Werewolves And Superheroes
by FelOllie
Summary: There are bodies dropping like flies in Starling City and not even Team Arrow can figure out what's dropping them. OR: The one in which Felicity figures out that werewolves are a thing, Stiles, Derek, and Isaac head to Starling City to figure out who hacked their database, and Oliver wonders when exactly he lost control of his life.
1. The Ribbon Killer

**Hey lovelies!**

**So, this fic might be a teensy bit cracky in some places but it's utterly self-indulgent and I kind of adore it. Updates will be staggered and unscheduled but they'll be there as long as there's interest :)**

**As always: If you need me to tag something please, please, _please_ DO NOT hesitate to let me know!**

* * *

"This is the sixth murder in eight days, Oliver." Felicity sat at her desk in the Foundry, fingertips tapping away at her keyboard as she sorted through the file on who the police had quietly dubbed the Ribbon Killer.

The name made the murders sound a whole lot less gruesome and violent than they were, but if you knew the meaning behind it... Well, not so much. The special task force created to hunt the Ribbon Killer named the psycho as such because each body had been found with its flesh torn to ribbons, entire stretches and strips of skin and flesh missing. The SCPD had yet to disclose any information to the general public but, thanks to Felicity's nearly unrivaled skills, Team Arrow had all the information they needed. Well, more than they wanted, really. Felicity would never get the crime scene photographs out of her head. There was something about a dead body with its face torn off that had a way of sticking with you.

"I know." Oliver came up behind her chair, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at the screen of her computer. "Have you found anything that might help us find this guy?"

"First of all, we don't know for sure it's a man. Women can be crazy serial killers, too." Felicity chided, squinting up at Oliver for a beat, before returning her attention to her monitors. "And Second... No. I'm still sorting through the new evidence, though."

"Whoever this is, they're escalating." Digg tossed over his shoulder at them from where he was sparring on a mat with Roy.

"Three kills in two days?" Roy snorted, trying to sweep Digg's legs out from beneath him while he wasn't paying attention and failing spectacularly. "Yeah, I'd say that's an escalation."

"Sara asked Nyssa about it." Oliver volunteered. "She said she's never seen anything like this, either."

"Huh." Felicity frowned, "You'd think that, as an assassin trained in all the ways to kill you and make it as painful as possible, Nyssa would have some insight."

"These aren't typical kills, Felicity." Oliver leaned against the edge of her desk with his hip, legs crossed at the ankles. "These murders are brutal. Savage, even. I don't think anyone with a shred of sanity could have insight into this."

"Fair enough." Felicity nodded, ignoring the thwack of skin on vinyl when Digg knocked Roy flat on his back. "Look, why don't you guys head home for the night. I'll stay here and see what I can come up with. If I find anything, I'll call you."

Oliver shook his head immediately. "I'll stay here with you. We can order in, work on figuring this out together."

"You don't have to do that." Felicity tried to protest.

"I know that I don't have to." Oliver dropped a hand to her shoulder, smiling down at her when she leaned her head back onto the headrest. "I want to. I don't feel comfortable leaving you here, alone. Not with what's going on out there."

"Okay." Felicity conceded. "I'm going to have to take a rain check on dinner, though. I'm not sure I'm ever going to be able to eat food again." She made a face, her nose crinkling in disgust as she tipped her head at the screen, still showing images of crime scenes.

Oliver chuckled, unable to help himself. "No dinner, then. Coffee is still allowed, right?"

Felicity grinned, her painted lips turning up. "Coffee is always allowed. Hell, it's a basic requirement."

* * *

The pack laid around the living room of the long ago rebuilt Hale house, all of them sprawled out in random positions, some of which really shouldn't be comfortable but somehow seemed to be. Scott was asleep on the floor, smooshed in between Isaac and Allison, his legs in a messy tangle with Isaac's, his arms wrapped around Allison's waist and his head in her lap. Lydia and Jackson were curled together on the recliner in one corner of the room, Lydia fast asleep with her face buried in Jackson's neck. Erica was laying on her back on the floor, her legs hooked over the front of the loveseat so that her feet rested in Boyd's lap. Danny sat cross-legged on the couch, his laptop open and resting on his thighs while Peter sat at the opposite end, engrossed in a book. Stiles stood in the doorway between the living room and the foyer, leaning against the door frame and watching his pack with a calm, settled feeling coiled warmly in his belly.

"Hey." Derek's gentle voice reached Stiles' ears and sent a shiver down his spine.

"Hey." Stiles smiled, leaning back into Derek's chest as the other man's arms came around his waist. "How'd it go?"

"Good. Your dad wanted me to remind you that we're supposed to show up for dinner tomorrow night." Derek hooked his chin over Stiles' shoulder so that he could look in on his pack.

Lydia snuffled in her sleep, shifting against Jackson's throat and dragging a soft smile to his lips.

"That man has no faith in me. He texted me the exact same thing this morning." Stiles huffed, threading his fingers through Derek's where they lay just above his belt. "So, you found the kid?"

"Yeah. She was wandering around one of the paths up by the river. She's shaken up but Melissa said she was physically fine." Derek turned Stiles in his arms, capturing his lips in a hello kiss.

Stiles hummed contentedly into the kiss, his tongue darting out to flick at Derek's bottom lip where his teeth had nipped. "I'll take a werewolf over a bloodhound, any day of the week." Stiles grinned, pulling back to meet Derek's pale green eyes, temporarily ensnared by the ring of almost-red around his pupils.

Derek chuffed a laugh. "One wolf in particular, I hope."

"Shh." Stiles pressed a finger to Derek's lips. "Don't let the pups hear you say that. Erica will rip out my spleen if you make me choose a favorite."

"He's not wrong." Erica called from the floor, her voice carrying enough for Stiles to hear it.

"Come on, guys. We all know McCall is Stiles' favorite." Jackson threw in, quietly enough to not startle Lydia.

"Wrong." Danny shook his head, eyes still fixed on his laptop. "Totally Derek."

Peter hummed his agreement with Danny, his eyes never leaving the pages of his book.

"It's obviously Erica." Boyd shrugged, making Erica preen.

"Isaac." Allison smiled sweetly, running her fingers through a softly snoring Scott's hair. "It's definitely Isaac."

"See what you started?" Stiles sighed, jabbing Derek in the chest with his finger. "You think you'd have learned after the last time. If this devolves into werewolf wrestling, you get to play ref. I'm not losing another pair of jeans to my own pack. I still haven't finished rebuilding my wardrobe from the salamander incident."

"I tried to tell you to stay out of that." Derek reminded him, his thumbs stroking at the skin at Stiles' hips, having slipped beneath the fabric of his shirt.

"Yeah, yeah. What else is new?" Stiles dismissed that with a wave. "Come on." He tugged Derek toward the kitchen. "You can watch me cook you a proper hero's meal."

"I'm not a hero, Stiles." Derek grumbled, the tips of his ears turning pink like they did every time Stiles called him that. "All I did was follow a scent."

"Shut up, Derek." Stiles smirked, letting it drop and changing the subject. "What do you want? Golabki or burgers?"

Derek just stared at him, his expression bland.

"Yeah, okay. Dumb question." Stiles laughed, digging through the refrigerator to find the head of cabbage.

* * *

Felicity yawned and rubbed at her eyes, her glasses tossed on the desk beside her keyboard, as she tried to force back the headache taking shape beneath her brows. She took a moment to let her eyes drift over Oliver where he was stretched out on the roll-away bed they kept for occasions like these. He was fast asleep, face turned toward her, his mouth fixed in a frown even while resting. Felicity smiled slightly, letting the swell of affection warm her chest before she went back to work.

Two hours later and Felicity found herself with more questions than answers. For instance, why did the medical examiner find avian DNA in the wounds on each victim? He'd even gone so far as to say the damage to their bodies had been caused, at least in part, by some kind of large predatory bird. There was definitive evidence that all six victims had had their jugular pierced by what appeared to be a beak before being mauled by what could only be described as talons. Another thing all six victims had in common was that each of them showed signs of internal collapse, their organs, bones, and even their circulatory system having caved inward, as though sucked into a vacuum. The almost complete lack of blood was pretty much expected at that point.

These murders made all of zero sense. There was, so far, no connection between victims, nothing to shed light on how the killer was choosing targets. Add in the bit about the large bird of prey as an apparent accomplice and Felicity was utterly baffled.

The details niggled at something at the edge of Felicity's brain, sparking to life vague recollections of something she couldn't quite pull to the surface. Shaking off the eerie feeling and reminding herself that she wasn't alone in the lair, Felicity typed all of the information she had into a search program that used an algorithm to scan the internet and multiple databases for anything resembling the details she gathered. Leaving the program to do its job, Felicity pushed away from her desk in order to refill her mug from the coffee pot in the little kitchenette she'd insisted they needed.

By the time she returned to her desk and finished a second cup of coffee, Felicity was lost in sorting through the data her program compiled. She spent the next three hours sifting through everything, trying to decide what was relevant and what had no bearing on the case. The further into the internet she got, the more Felicity's skin prickled with awareness, like something was staring her right in the face but she was still managing to miss it.

The search program pinged back, one last scrap of information before it restarted its search. Felicity pulled up the last result, her brow furrowing as she read. Most of the information on the page was encrypted, which only served to further baffle Felicity since her program shouldn't have flagged the page at all. She wondered if the algorithm had picked up one of its search parameters in the encryption code itself.

Determined to figure out why, Felicity back-traced the site, finding it tucked away in the darkest recesses of the internet where no one but a skilled computer expert would know where, or even how, to look for it. There were several layers of security, more than a few hoops for Felicity to have to jump through since she didn't have any of the required passwords or command prompts.

It was nearly 6 am by the time she managed to figure out what had triggered her program, and almost 7 when the shocked gasp left her lips.

"What's wrong?" Oliver's sleep roughed, honey-over-gravel voice asked as he stirred awake.

"Nothing." Felicity answered immediately, minimizing the windows on her monitor. "Or, well, nothing yet. I might have found something but I have to do some more research."

Oliver frowned, pushing his shirtless form up out of the bed and shuffling toward Felicity. "Did you sleep at all?"

"No. I got caught up in trying to figure this out. I'm fine though. Go shower and get dressed." Felicity shooed him towards the bathroom. "Digg and Roy will be here soon and you have a mission to prep for."

Oliver's frown deepened, his sleepy eyes roving over Felicity's face. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm good." she promised. "A quick nap while you guys prep and I'll be good to go by the time you're ready to head out."

Oliver looked like he might argue but after a second's hesitation he turned and made his way toward the bathroom. When the door clicked shut behind him, Felicity dove back into action and started working on a plan.

* * *

"Answer your phone." Derek growled, kicking at Stiles' legs under the sheet.

Stiles kicked back, muttering nonsensically under his breath as he struggled back to the land of the awake and aware. The phone stopped ringing, lulling Stiles into a false sense of security. The second he relaxed back into the mattress, his phone blared back to life.

"Someone better be dead." Stiles muttered darkly, untangling his limbs from around Derek's and rolling sideways to snatch the offending device from the nightstand. Answering, he pressed it to his ear. "Danny, I swear to God-"

When Stiles cut off abruptly, his heartbeat kicking up, Derek tuned his hearing into the conversation.

"-don't know how they managed it, Stiles. I woke up to a security alert. Whoever it is, they're good, man. No one should be able to breech the site." Danny was panicked, his worry carrying clearly, even through the phone.

Derek sat up so fast he dislodged the sheet from around his hips. If Stiles wasn't busy internally freaking out he might have noticed his very naked boyfriend had unintentionally put his flawless body on display.

"You said that there was no way for this to happen!" Derek snapped, not even feeling guilty when Stiles flinched.

"I don't know what happened. It should be impossible." Danny insisted, having heard Derek's angry voice through the phone.

"Can you find them?" Stiles tried, running a hand over his face in frustration. He didn't need to have the wolves' senses to know that Derek was furious. Rightfully so, but still.

"They're in California, north of us. I'm trying to narrow it down now." Danny assured, his tone still thick with anxiety.

"Find them." Derek growled, this time less sleepy-woken-by-a-ringing-telephone and more find-them-so-I-can-rip-their-throat-out.

Ending the call and dropping the phone on the bed beside him, Stiles buried his head in his hands. "Don't." he gritted out.

"You promised me, Stiles." Derek said, anger vibrating off his skin. Stiles guessed that the rest of the pack , at least those in the house, were already moving around in their rooms, responding to their Alpha's anger. "You _swore_ to me that no one would find that stupid fucking website."

"I know." Stiles snapped and then sighed, lifting his head to meet Derek's eyes, glowing red. "I'm sorry, okay? I don't know how they got through."

"This puts not just us, but all of the packs in danger. Everyone with a connection to us is now in danger _because _of us." Derek snarled.

Stiles knew Derek was right. It had been Stiles' genius idea to insist they needed a website to keep in contact with, and keep track of, the sprawling network of supernatural badassery that they worked hard to establish. Allied packs and their emissaries, Argent hunters who followed the code Allison initiated, Covens and independent practitioners of magic who the packs knew they could trust (by Derek or Scott's approval only), members of law enforcement who were in the supernatural know, and the occasional supernatural being (banshees, fae, and the like) who had proven themselves loyal to the cause and general supernatural knowledge they'd acquired over the years. Information on all of them was contained in the database, an online beastiary of sorts, accessible to each of them so long as they had the passwords to bypass security. And, every single one of them were now in danger. Whoever had hacked their database managed to put an entire faction of the supernatural community in danger, maybe without even realizing they'd done it.

Stiles prayed that they didn't know what they'd done. If someone who knew about werewolves and the supernatural was behind this, if they genuinely wanted to hurt Stiles' pack or any of the rest of them, Stiles had practically handed them the key to achieving that goal, held up on a silver platter and tied with a shiny red bow.

"We need to fix this." Derek said between clenched teeth.

"We will. Danny's working on finding them as we speak. We'll figure it out, Derek." Stiles insisted.

Derek could smell regret and anxiety rolling off of Stiles, clinging to the air around him. He could hear Stiles' heart thumping guiltily in his chest, feel its heavy thrum. Rationally speaking, Derek knew it was just as much his fault as it was Stiles'. After all, he'd been the one to agree to let it happen. He and Scott had agreed that as long as Stiles and Danny could keep the site hidden from prying eyes, it was actually a good idea. Being able to keep careful records of every and all supernatural encounters, be it by their pack or one of the others, being able to instantly share information made it that much easier to protect themselves and their territories. So, the database had gone live. If he were thinking about it, the site had been up for almost five years without incident. Which lent itself to what Stiles and Danny both kept repeating about the site being safe from outsiders.

"Call the pack." Derek commanded, turning on his heel and stalking away without another word.

Stiles watched him go, his chest aching with the strength of the emotions rolling through the mate bond. Being an Alpha's mate, even in an unconventional pack such as theirs, as well as being innately magical, meant that Stiles felt the bonds, pack and mate, more intensely than the rest of the pack. Human, wolf, or banshee, an Alpha's mate got the brunt of it when emotions ran rampant within the pack. Stiles' inherent magic made the bond a tangible web that he could see, each thread a different shimmering colored line connecting one pack member to another. It also meant that unless he were shielding, Stiles felt even small shifts in emotions. Powerful emotions, such as anger or rage, hit Stiles more sharply than they hit the others.

Derek was a strong broadcaster. Even after almost four years together Stiles still had trouble shielding with Derek. Lydia thought it was because Derek and he were too intertwined to separate themselves completely. Stiles was pretty sure she might be right. Even before they'd solidified the mate bond Stiles had been able to read Derek better than anyone else. It was a talent of his, apparently.

After sending out a quick text to Scott, summoning him to the house, Stiles forced himself out of bed and into the shower. He spent the entirety of the fifteen minute shower bouncing back and forth between berating himself for not doing enough to protect the database and being hurt and angry at the way Derek reacted to the breech.

Dressed and still buzzing with emotional overflow, Stiles made his way down to the kitchen, dragging Erica along with him when he caught her on the stairs. When she arched a quizzical brow at him Stiles tried to smile when he answered, "Breakfast before battle plans."


	2. Blood And Lilacs

One of the allied packs was closest to Starling city, the location Danny had managed to trace the hack back to. They were a relatively small pack, only consisting of three betas and an Alpha, and their territory kissed the back line of Starling City's border. Their Alpha, a hell on heels kind of woman named Kiara, decided to grant the Hale-McCall pack access to her territory, pledging the assistance of her pack should the situation necessitate it.

The string of murders in Starling City over the last week or so had her pack on edge. Given that, she was more than happy to have a friendly pack around to add to their number. One of Kiara's men on the inside of the SCPD had promised her that, while the murders were definitely the work of something supernatural, none of the human officers had managed to figure that out. The SCPD's head honcho, Captain Lance, had chalked it all up to a particularly brutal and sadistic killer of the human variety.

Derek wasn't interested in the murders if he was being completely honest. He just wanted to figure out who hacked the database and why. Danny and Stiles both swore up and down that it should be impossible to hack, that anyone who even looked at it, if they somehow managed to stumble across it, wouldn't be able to make heads or tails of the encryption code.

Derek wanted to know who in the world was capable of accomplishing the impossible. Other than Stiles, anyway.

Scott and Derek decided that the entire pack didn't need to take the trip, a six hour drive north, since they were only tracking the hacker and they couldn't very well leave Beacon Hills unprotected. If they found the hacker to be a legitimate threat the remainder of the pack would make the trip after making arrangements with Chris Argent to run point on protection detail until they got back. Scott insisted that Isaac accompany Derek north, a request that went unchallenged.

"No." Derek shook his head in denial at the same moment Stiles opened his mouth, cutting him off before he could offer his own services.

"Wha- Why?" Stiles asked, eyes widening in surprise. Derek never stepped foot outside Beacon Hills' borders without Stiles by his side.

"We don't need two Alpha mates out of the territory." Derek hedged, close enough to a genuine concern to pass as truth even to the wolves.

The same could not be said for Stiles.

"Bullshit." Stiles snorted angrily. "Allison will still be here. She and Scott are more than capable of leading and caring for the pack without you, me, or Isaac around. Besides, you need someone with tech knowledge on hand, just in case."

"He has a point, Derek. " Scott interjected reluctantly.

Stiles smiled at his best friend, once again thankful that Scott always had his back.

"As an added bonus, I happen to be magically inclined. You know, in case you've forgotten." Stiles snarked. When he felt a frisson of worry ripple through their bond, Stiles thought he might have an idea why Derek was so reluctant. "This is my mess to clean up. I'm the one who fucked up, okay? Let me help fix it." he added, the sarcastic edge gone from his voice, replaced by something softer and more pleading.

Derek hesitated but asked, "What if-"

"Kiara isn't going to hurt me, Derek." Stiles promised, confident that he was right. "She and the pack have been allies far too long for that. She knows better than most that we clean up the messes we make." When Derek remained silent, Stiles pulled out the big guns. "If you go, I go." he murmured, reminding Derek of a vow they'd made to one another in a moment of awful clarity, a moment in which neither of them had been sure they'd be coming back and having wholly recognized the fact that neither of them wanted to if the other wasn't firmly by his side.

There was a tense silence in which Stiles worried that Derek might argue again. Instead, he snapped out a short, "Fine." and scowled at Stiles for the remainder of the meeting.

Scowling from Derek, Stiles could deal with. Angry Derek was practically a default setting. But, that didn't mean that Stiles was immune when that temper was genuinely directed at him.

Derek tended to adopt a reluctantly amused, exasperatedly fond attitude when dealing with Stiles. It took a hell of a lot of pushing for Stiles to make Derek truly pissed off with him now and days. Having the full force of that anger directed at him for the first time in ages made Stiles' nerves itch with the desire to fix it, in any way he could.

Danny set his laptop on the table, open to a map of Starling City. He dragged a tablet from his bag and pulled up a tracking program. "Alright, here's what I've found."

* * *

Danny wasn't able to pinpoint where exactly the hacker was located, but did manage to narrow it down to a ten square block radius of Starling City in an area known as the Glades. It was mostly warehouses and abandoned buildings, save for one section that housed a nightclub.

The entire drive up to Starling City, Derek remained mostly quiet. As usual, Stiles babbled to fill the silence, dragging Isaac into random conversations about anything and everything he could think of. He even managed to draw an occasional grunted response from Derek.

"You know, Starling City has its own Batman." Stiles informed them. "Or, Batman type guy anyway. He goes by the Arrow."

Derek made a derisive sound in the back of his throat.

Stiles ignored him. "I guess it goes without saying that a compound bow is his weapon of choice. He's some kind of master marksman with the thing, too. From the reports that I've found, he never misses unless he means to."

"No way he's a better shot than Allison." Isaac smirked from the backseat of Derek's soccer mom SUV.

"Dude, no one is a better shot than Allison." Stiles assured him. "Doesn't it make you wonder, though? I mean, he has to know about the murders. There's no way that he doesn't. Do you think he's realized there's something fishy going on? Maybe we should-"

"No." Derek cut him off.

"You don't even know what I was going to say!" Stiles turned in his seat, facing Derek more directly.

"We are only doing this to find out who hacked the database, Stiles." Derek reminded him. "We're not going to Starling City to investigate the murders, do you hear me? They're Kiara's problem, not ours."

"But, Derek, what if we can help?" Stiles pressed.

"No one's asked for our help, Stiles. Why do you want to go looking for trouble?" Derek glanced at him before sliding his eyes back to the road.

Stiles narrowed his eyes at Derek, entertaining the idea of arguing but decided against it. There was no longer anger vibrating through their bond and Stiles really wasn't in any hurry to bring it back, so he let it go.

"Fine. You're right." Stiles relented. Derek smirked and Stiles could feel the smugness bleeding through him. "Asshole." he muttered under his breath.

Derek ignored that, instead taking one hand off the wheel and tangling his fingers with Stiles'.

* * *

"No, Stiles. We're not going clubbing. Focus." Derek rolled his eyes.

"Jesus. Am I going to get to do _anything _I want to do while we're here?" Stiles huffed.

"No." Derek and Isaac responded in unison.

Stiles turned his back on their grinning faces, returning his attention to the giant foundry-turned-nightclub they were supposed to be scouting, grumbling under his breath about pain in the ass werewolves and fruitless recon missions. They'd already combed over six square blocks, finding nothing, and Stiles would be lying if he said he wasn't growing exceedingly frustrated with every block they covered.

The trio made their way closer to the warehouse, Derek's senses on high alert. He could hear music pumping out from the open club door, the scent of sex and sweat and alcohol wafting from within and setting both wolves on edge, their instincts lighting up with the heady scents. Stiles shivered, his skin warming with the pulse of heat that carried through the bond.

As they reached the far west side of the building, Derek caught a different scent permeating the air around the repurposed foundry. There was a distinctly feminine edge to the smell, something akin to lilacs and champagne and sunlight. Considering the place was being used as a nightclub it wasn't all that unusual a smell. Or, wouldn't have been if it weren't a fresh trail, something that stirred up when the wind blew. Derek probably wouldn't have thought twice about it had it not been tinged with blood and anxiety.

"What is it?" Stiles asked, immediately picking up on the shift in Derek's energy.

"Blood." Isaac answered, catching the scent.

"It's a female but I can't tell exactly where it's coming from." Derek lifted his nose, inhaling more deeply to try and pinpoint a location.

Stiles, never one to walk away from a potentially dangerous situation, insisted they investigate. "What if she's in real trouble, Derek? She might need help." he pushed, turning wide whiskey eyes on Derek.

Of course Derek agreed. Partially because he had a weakness for those eyes when they went all soft and pleading, and partially because if someone was in trouble Derek didn't have it in him to walk away. An immediate and obvious situation was a far cry from getting wrapped up in an existing investigation, after all. There was someone nearby who was radiating fear and anxiety. That wasn't something they could just turn a blind eye to.

Derek sent Isaac to scout out the perimeter of the building, to see if he could find out where the scent led. "Just circle the building and see what you can find. If you find something, come get me before you do anything else."

With a nod, Isaac loped off.

Stiles and Derek made their way into the club, sliding onto stools at the bar. Stiles ordered a drink and Derek scented the air as surreptitiously as he could, nose lifted just slightly. There was an underlying tang of blood beneath the typical club scents but Derek's senses were overwhelmed. Between the pounding music, the flashing lights, and the vast array of scents, he couldn't get a lock on any one thing in particular.

"I'll be right back." Stiles said suddenly, his lips close to Derek's ear to be sure he could be heard.

"Where are you going?" Derek's brows drew together.

"I'm just going to the bathroom. Stay here and wait for Isaac." Stiles squeezed Derek's forearm reassuringly before he slipped off his stool.

"Keep your eyes open." Derek reminded him, trailing his hand over the back of Stiles' neck before he could move away.

"I will." Stiles promised and then blended into the crowd.

The second Stiles was out of site Derek tensed. He focused on the mate bond, knowing that it would let him know if Stiles were in danger well before his eyes would. That was half of the bonds purpose, after all, to keep a wolf tuned into their mate even across long distances.

Five minutes passed with Derek nursing Stiles' drink and covertly casting a watchful eye around him. He stood, restless energy making him too agitated to sit still. He had just cleared the edge of the bar, gaze sweeping the edges of the club, when he caught a flash of movement in his periphery, a flail of limbs and a glimpse of blue that disappeared behind a door. Simultaneously, Derek felt a wave of fear that didn't come from himself flaring in his chest.

"Shit." he muttered, shoving his way through the crowd and heading toward where he'd seen Stiles disappear.

He ducked down a hallway to the right of the bar, following the scent of Stiles and panic through a door that opened into an alleyway. Before Derek even stepped over the threshold and into the alley he was greeted by the scent of gunpowder, pepper, and molasses. On the opposite side of the alley Derek found a massive wall of dark-skinned man, taller and wider than even Boyd, pressing Stiles into a brick wall with his arms twisted up uncomfortably against his back.

Derek growled, the low, menacing sound that normally scared humans into backing the fuck off. Except the guy, a veritable mountain of a man, actually _laughed_.

"If you only knew, man. If you only knew." The guy shook his head, his hold on Stiles tightening but his head turning enough so that he could keep one eye on Derek.

"Let him go." Derek snarled, struggling to keep the shift at bay.

He couldn't stop it entirely because Stiles, his _mate_, was in danger but he fought it with every fiber of his being. Derek could feel his teeth lengthen, feel his claws prick at his fingertips, and fought the urge to tear into the other man. Stiles was still radiating fear but the scent mellowed a little with Derek's arrival. Derek forced himself to focus on that, to meet Stiles' eyes and catch the tiny nod he offered.

"Why don't one of you tell us what your friend here was doing sniffing around where he doesn't belong." the guy said, all demanding statement and no actual question as he gave Stiles a rough shake.

Derek tried to keep the red from bleeding into his eyes but wasn't entirely sure he succeeded. "Us?" he snapped.

"Us." A deep, mechanically altered voice called down from the fire escape above Derek's head.

Derek crouched low, swiveling in place to keep his back away from both strangers.

"Fucking archers." he growled, getting a good look at the leather clad figure above him, bow drawn tight, arrow aimed straight at Derek's chest.


	3. Disbelief And Broken Bonds

Derek heard Stiles gasp in surprise, an expletive tripping from his lips as he took note of the archer's aggressive stance. Even in the dimly lit and dingy alleyway, despite the mask and hood hiding most of his face and without Derek using his wolf sight, he could still see surprise flicker across the Arrow's features at Derek's comment.

"You know a lot of us?" the archer asked, his eyes never leaving Derek.

Stiles snorted then and the dark-skinned guy raised an almost amused eyebrow down at him.

"More than I'd like to." Derek ground out, his jaw creaking ominously with the force of him clenching his teeth.

"He's just generally more acquainted with the arrows than the archer." Stiles tossed in, because he's Stiles and can never seem to keep his snark to himself, not even when they're in the midst of a potentially dangerous situation.

Derek clenched his jaw tighter and thanked his accelerated healing when his teeth cracked. His claws threatened to unsheathe, sharp and ready to pop from his fingertips, his body taunt with resistance to the shift.

"You two are at a severe disadvantage here." the archer informed them, completely oblivious to the war being waged within Derek. "Tell me what you're doing here, what your friend was looking for, and maybe we can all walk away from this without any bloodshed."

Derek didn't speak, unsure how to even begin to explain how they ended up where they were, how to explain that they were on an entirely different trail but somehow knew that there was a female nearby who reeked of blood and might need medical attention or a rescue and fuck him sideways how in the hell did he always end up with a weapon aimed at his chest?

Holding himself stock still, Derek bit back the "none of your fucking business" that wanted to shove its way through his teeth. His tension eased just the barest fraction when he could feel Isaac nearby, feel the pack bond tug behind his navel.

Derek's lips turned up in a snarl, heedless of whether or not his partially extended fangs were put on display. "You might want to reevaluate which of us has the advantage." he growled darkly.

Stiles took the moment of tense anticipation and ran with it. He sent magic skittering across his skin, putting a heavy dose of power behind it. The shock caught Mountain Man by surprise and Stiles ripped his arms free, kicking back with his heel and landing a hit directly to the guy's kneecap. When tall, dark, and behemoth lurched forward Stiles crooked his arm, forcing it back and landing an elbow to the guy's jaw.

At the same moment, the familiar but somehow not at all sound of an arrow whistling through the air gave Derek enough time to dodge it, letting it embed itself in the wall behind him. He turned a sarcastically kinked eyebrow on the archer just as Isaac leapt down from the low roof of an adjacent building, dropping into a defensive crouch at Derek's left side, his features entirely human even as his eyes flickered between his Alpha and the archer, a growl building low and rolling in his chest.

"Wait!" a sharp female voice called out as someone came bursting through a door Derek hadn't even known was there.

Every man in that alley, human and wolf alike, froze.

That smell hit Derek again, the _lilac-champagne-sunshine _scent from before. It was still laced through with blood but most of it didn't actually seem to belong to her. It was drying already, going stale wherever it had soaked into the fabric of her clothes.

"Wait." she repeated, this time more firmly, her eyes lifting to the leather bound bow toter.

They seemed to have an entire conversation with just their eyes, neither of them speaking but somehow understanding one another perfectly. Derek must have missed something because before he could blink the Arrow was dropping to the ground and the girl was turning to face the wolves, along with Stiles who was standing tall behind them.

Derek was taken aback by the razor edged tang of excitement that wafted off the woman. He had been wrong calling her a girl, even in his head. She was definitely a woman, all soft curves and porcelain skin. Her blonde hair framed a pretty face and a pair of cunning blue eyes, curiosity and intelligence burning bright behind dark framed glasses.

As if on a mission to confuse Derek further the woman spoke directly to Stiles, ignoring Derek and Isaac entirely despite the fact that Isaac had risen to his full, considerable, height and was inching closer to Derek and Stiles with every second that ticked by.

"You're Stiles." The blonde smiled wide and sincere, her expression laced with a giddiness Derek didn't understand.

"Uh..." Stiles' eyebrows knotted together in confusion even as Derek fought the growl rumbling in his throat. "No?"

"What the hell is a Stiles?" The big guy asked, taking up the archer's left side, rubbing unconsciously at the hinge of his jaw.

"He's a Stiles." The blonde lifted her chin at Stiles, her heart beating a steady but elevated tempo in Derek's ears. "I'm Felicity."

She stepped forward, hand extended toward Stiles, but stopped when Derek and Isaac both growled and closed ranks around him.

The archer and the mountain moved in synchronization, both of them flanking Felicity without hesitation.

"Easy, guys." Stiles slipped between Derek and Isaac, lifting a hand to shake Felicity's. "Hey. Don't mind these guys. They're just a little bit overprotective, especially when super imposing giants among men try to rough me up in dark alleyways. Seriously, this isn't even the first time this has happened. Though I don't think roughing up was what that other guy was going for bu-"

"Stiles." Derek barked out a warning at the exact same moment the aforementioned giant said, "Oh my God, there's two of them."

"Felicity, what is going on?" the archer asked, his unease making itself know in the terse sound of his voice. Derek didn't miss the change in his tone even through the voice altering apparatus. "Do you know these guys?"

"Not exactly?" Felicity hedged, biting her bottom lip with a small wince.

"Holy hell." Stiles pointed a finger at the blonde, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. "It was you!"

"What was her?" the Arrow pressed, moving even closer to Felicity's side as though Stiles would even consider hurting her.

That's not to say that he wouldn't if the situation called for it. Stiles would tear the world apart and burn it to the ground if it meant protecting his pack, and he wouldn't lose a single wink of sleep over it. But there was nothing overtly threatening about the little blonde human, nothing to put Stiles on the defensive even if both Derek and Isaac were ready to tear her limb from limb should she so much as look like she were going to make a move.

"You hacked us!" Stiles turned to Derek, eyes round and incredulous. "She hacked us!" he half-shouted, just in case Derek missed that bit. "How did you hack us?!" Stiles asked, turning back to Felicity.

It was the Arrow's turn to snort, though it came out sounding more knowing than derisive.

With that the wind shifted, putting Derek downwind of the archer. On the breeze that blew past him Derek caught the smell of silk, leather and rain. There was also an undercurrent of dried blood, the same as the scent that Felicity wore, though it was fresher than the remnants clinging to her in thin wisps. Derek cataloged it all, just in case.

Felicity grinned somewhat smugly at Stiles before turning to the hooded guy beside her. When she looked up at him her expression melted into something soft and open. "Okay, you are not going to like what I'm about to say but I need you to trust me. Can you do that?"

"Felicity, you know that I trust you." the archer said, his eyes dark and flinty in the horribly lit alleyway.

Stiles couldn't help but glance back at Derek, hearing the same sentiment echoing in his memories. A soft smile tugged up one side of mouth, curling his lips before he turned his attention back to the trio opposite them.

"Good." Felicity nodded, her own lips turning up at the corners. "Then we need to take this downstairs."

"Are you kidding?" The big guy asked doubtfully, glancing over at the others as though the last thing he wanted to do was let them hang around any longer than necessary.

"You know that I would never risk your secret." Felicity kept talking to the Arrow, though her hand reached out to reassure the other man, squeezing his forearm soothingly. "Believe me when I tell you that these three have just as much to lose, if not more, by us keeping their secret."

"We know their secret?" the archer questioned at the same moment Derek growled and Stiles said, "Yeah, about that."

"I do." Felicity smiled, ignoring everything else in favor of keeping her eyes fixed on the Arrow.

Derek could smell the deep affection rolling off of her in thick waves. He would have wondered about their relationship if he weren't busy attempting to calm the wolf snarling and snapping inside his head, clawing at his chest and begging to be let out. The archer's mouth turned down into a contemplative frown, broadcasting his indecisiveness like a red flag in a sea of white and drawing Derek's attention back to the current situation.

"Trust me." Felicity repeated, clasping the Arrow's hand. "They won't tell anyone who you are, I promise."

That seemed to appease him because in the next second he was giving one tight dip of his chin and turning to the open door Felicity had flung herself out of. Felicity smiled brightly, pleased with herself or the outcome Derek couldn't be sure.

"Come on." Felicity gestured for the pack to follow her. "You guys are safe here, I swear. You _and_ your secret."

Stiles cocked his head while he looked at her and Derek could tell he was impressed. Stiles may have even been a little turned on but Derek shoved the stab of jealousy down and focused on the situation he'd long ago lost control of.

"Say it again." Stiles instructed Felicity, his tone easy but demanding compliance just the same.

"What?" Her smile faltered just a little, the question reaching her eyes.

"Repeat what you just said." Stiles gestured at absolutely nothing but Felicity seemed to understand anyway.

"You and your secret are safe here." she repeated, her voice steady and strong through her confusion.

Stiles looked back to Derek and Isaac for confirmation. They both nodded, having heard no skip in her heartbeat to indicate a lie.

"Alrighty." Stiles stepped forward, brandishing an arm for Felicity to lead the way, all the while ignoring her confused expression. "Let's do this."

* * *

Felicity looked around the loosely assembled group of men, all of them glaring or scowling at one another, and had to hide a smile behind her hand. Stiles, the only man not actively trying to bore holes into the skulls of anyone at all, noticed her smile and returned it with one of his own.

Oliver had lost the mask and lowered the hood, but he still wore his leathers like a suit of armor, not daring to stray more than a foot away from Felicity at a time. She knew the gash along his ribs was going to need attention sooner rather than later but Oliver didn't seem to mind the pain if it meant he got to stick close. Digg was leaning against a pillar a few feet away, seemingly relaxed though Felicity knew he'd be ready to move in a blink.

Stiles stood with his wolves on the other side of the space, hands in his pockets and looking for all the world like a kid in a candy store, his gaze flicking to Oliver and then away several times. Felicity thought she heard Stiles whisper, "For Christ's sake, he's a superhero, Derek. Stop growling." and had to press her lips tight to stop the giggle that threatened to burst out.

The dark haired wolf, Alpha Derek Hale she recalled from the database, stood stoically, his shoulders back and chin up as though waiting for a challenge or attack. The curly haired blonde, Isaac, one of two mates to Alpha Scott McCall, hovered close to Stiles' left side, arms crossed around his middle, his eyes skipping from one face to another apprehensively though he tried to convey confidence.

_How is this my life? _Felicity wondered, moving to pick up the tablet from her desk.

"I used to ask myself that question on a daily basis." Stiles grinned, answering her because apparently she'd said that out loud.

And who could blame her, really? In the last sixteen hours her world had been tilted on its axis and she was still desperately trying to get her feet back beneath her. Every myth and legend she'd ever read or learned about had suddenly become _real_. From the innocent and adorable to the deadly and destructive, every single thing Felicity thought belonged in the realm of fairytales was no longer trapped within the pages of books or the reels of films and were now living and breathing realities. Her brain-to-mouth filter was only half functional on a good day. No one should expect it to be anywhere near fully functional on a day like this.

"So..." Stiles rocked back and forth on his heels, glancing around the interior of the lair with an impressed eye. "This place is a lot nicer than our base. Well, our base is more of a house than anything. A home-base, if you will."

"Stiles." Derek bit, the cords of his neck straining with tension.

"Okay, look." Felicity stepped forward, placing herself in the center of all of them. "I think introductions might be the way to go here."

She looked to Oliver for confirmation. He gave one last scowl but reluctantly nodded his assent, resigned to that particular inevitability.

"Right. So, Oliver Queen. CEO of Queen Consolidated by day, hooded superhero by night." Felicity jerked her thumb over her right shoulder where Oliver was hovering. Tipping her head to where Digg was standing, she continued, "John Diggle. Soldier, bodyguard, occasional driver, and hero in his own right. And I," She smiled proudly, "am Felicity Smoak. I.T expert, executive assistant, and the one who makes sure this team stays in one piece. Or, well, more like three to ten pieces, depending on who's doing the counting. But one unit, I guess."

Felicity lifted her brows, watching Stiles expectantly.

"Oh! My turn?" Stiles pointed to his own chest until Felicity nodded encouragingly. "Uh, okay... See, I don't really know what to say here. I mean, like, obviously you know who we are because you're the evil genius that hacked our database, which I have tons of questions about by the way, but they," Stiles indicated Oliver and Digg, "don't seem to have any idea. And, speaking from experience, I can tell you that this isn't a pill you can swallow dry, you know what I mean? Actually, you kind of did the same thing I did, which was figure it out all on your own which, again. Questions. Because, I had my best friend who was bitten as a starting poi-"

"Bitten?" Oliver interrupted, his scowl slipping into utter confusion. There was no way he'd heard that correctly.

Stiles bit his lips and looked to Felicity for guidance, his eyes wide and questioning.

She tapped a neon orange fingernail to the edge of her tablet in deliberation before turning to face Oliver and Digg directly. "Werewolves." she stated matter-of-factly.

Stiles snorted a laugh. "Way to rip off the band-aid."

"... Werewolves?" Oliver asked, dubiously and with more than a little heat in his tone.

"As in...?" Digg pushed himself away from the pillar, eyeing the wolves more carefully.

"As in claws, fangs, howling at the moon, honest-to-God werewolves." Stiles nodded, rocking forward onto his toes.

Derek was standing stiffly beside Stiles, holding himself rigidly to counteract the intense vulnerability he felt laying it all out there for these strangers to see. Stiles picked up on it almost immediately, shifting closer to Derek's side, pressing into his shoulder to reassure and anchor him. Derek breathed a little easier for it, inhaling Stiles' familiar _lightning-dusty sunshine-mate _scent and holding it deep in his lungs.

"Werewolves... Exist?" Oliver asked incredulously, the disbelief billowing around him like smoke.

"Sure do." Stiles smiled comfortingly, trying to put everyone at ease.

"And you're one?" Diggle raised a brow, looking seriously unimpressed.

Stiles narrowed his eyes at him and Derek growled, but Stiles brushed a hand over the back of Derek's neck and he bit off the sound.

"No." Stiles answered evenly. "I'm not a wolf. I'm mostly human, actually. I mean, there's my magic but that's not _what_ I am, it's _who_ I am. If that makes sense? Uh, Derek and Isaac are wolves, though." He pointed to each of them respectively.

"Felicity." Oliver turned to her, his face pinched and bordering on angry.

"I should explain." She chewed on her bottom lip, unsure where to start. "Just... Try to keep an open mind, okay?" When Oliver gave one sharp jerk of his head to indicate his agreement, Felicity continued. "Okay. Last night I was trying to figure out the Ribbon Killer case. I used one of my programs to search for anything online that corresponded to the information I'd managed to gather so far. The algorithm I use is super specific and it picked up a couple of keywords in the encryption code for a heavily guarded database."

"Okay." Oliver nodded to show he was following along.

"So, the security for the site was tighter than A.R.G.U.S and the C.I.A put together. You know me, Oliver. Plus, the database obviously had information that we needed so I..."

"Hacked it." Isaac spoke up, drawing everyone's eyes and shrugging.

"Exactly." Felicity smiled at Isaac, earning a hint of a grin in return.

"What does this have to do with werewolves?" Diggle questioned, only stumbling a little over the word, as if it fit strangely in his mouth.

"Everything." Stiles threw in. "The database that Felicity miraculously hacked her way into is so heavily secured because it holds information on more than half of the world's supernatural population. Alphas to Zombies, that database has profiles on all of them."

"Alphas?" Oliver asked, wondering why the hell he was still asking questions and what had gotten into Felicity that she was buying into any of this.

"Alpha werewolves." Stiles nodded. "Like Derek here." He dipped his head in Derek's direction.

"Alpha, beta, omega." Felicity supplied for clarification. "Alpha Hale and Alpha McCall share responsibility for leading the Hale-McCall pack in Beacon Hills."

Digg and Oliver both turned eyes onto Isaac, who raised his hands in denial. "Not McCall." he laughed tightly. "I'm just a beta."

"But, you are Alpha McCall's mate? Or, one of them." Felicity asked, curiosity bulldozing straight over good manners.

"Werewolves get more than one mate?" Digg looked to Stiles because really, the kid seemed to be the one with the answers.

Derek surprised everyone, himself most of all, by speaking up. "Having more than one mate is almost unheard of. But, then again, so is having two Alphas within the same pack without infighting becoming a serious problem."

"Our pack is unconventional." Stiles chuckled, seemingly oblivious to the mounting tension in both Derek and Oliver's shoulders.

"I still don't know what 'werewolves'," Derek, Stiles and Isaac all bristled at Oliver's use of air quotes, even though they were implied and not at all physically manifested, "have to do with the Ribbon Killer. Is he a werewolf?"

"No." Felicity answered immediately, garnering herself the attention of all five men. "She's a Harpy."

"Excuse me?" Stiles' eyes widened, his mouth popping open in surprise.

Before Felicity could respond however, a sound at the top of the stairs drew the wolves' attention and had Derek moving in closer to Stiles' side.

"It's okay." Felicity assured them, already moving toward the stairs. "He's a member of the team."

"He?" Derek growled, catching the scent of cinnamon, anger, and something that made Derek think of broken bonds.

There was something naggingly familiar about the combination of scents, something that tickled at Derek's senses like a memory he couldn't quite drag to the surface.

"What the hell is going on down here?" the newcomer called from halfway down the stairs, his voice sending a trickle of recognition down Stiles' spine and had his brows knotting together.

"Long story." Felicity met him at the bottom of the staircase. She turned back to the group and opened her mouth to say, "Guys, this is-"

"Jackson?!" All three of the Hale-McCall pack said at the same time, their shock as clear as the noses on their faces.

"Noooo... Roy." The kid's eyebrows turned down in the middle, his face morphing in clear bewilderment. "Who the hell are these guys?" Roy asked Oliver, jerking his thumb in the pack's direction.

"Werewolves, apparently." Oliver sighed and ran a hand over his face in frustration and general exhaustion.

"What." Stiles flailed his arms around him, looking from Derek to Isaac and then back to Roy, who continued to watch the rest of them, clearly baffled.

"He does smell a little like Jackson." Isaac frowned, tilting his head in the way only the pups could do.

Stiles couldn't smell Roy's scent without employing his magic, which he thought was probably a bad idea considering the precarious alliance they all seemed to be trying to forge, but Derek could. It hit him with crystal clarity why the kid's scent made his brain light up with recognition. Jackson, as a human and then as a wolf, always smelled of anger and that same broken bond scent, though where Roy smelled like toasted cinnamon Jackson smelled like burnt sugar.

"Who is Jackson?" Digg asked, even as Felicity searched the database and pulled up his file on her tablet.

"He's one of Alpha Hale's betas." She held up the tablet to show Roy the photo of Jackson contained within the database. "There is a pretty striking resemblance." she mused.

"Huh." Roy frowned, taking the tablet and examining it for a moment. Finally he shook his head. "I don't see it."

"What in the fuck is going on in this city?" Stiles shouted.


	4. Gunpowder Is Fine, It's The Lilac I Hate

**Author's Note: You guys are awesome and I love you! I didn't think there would be so much interest in this crossover but I am thrilled to read each and every comment! **

**This chapter is where this story earns it's rating. **

_****NSFW content of the Sterek variety****_

* * *

As soon as he set foot into his and Derek's motel room, having left Isaac at the door to his own room next door, Stiles flopped forward onto the queen size bed, groaning. "A fucking Harpy, Derek. A Harpy!" He rolled his head sideways in time to watch Derek shrug out of his leather jacket and toss it over the back of a chair.

Derek sank onto the edge of the bed and hunched forward, elbows on his knees and head hanging forward with his hip only a few inches from Stiles' head. "I hate Harpies." he sighed heavily, scrubbing a hand over his scruff.

"Is there a sect of people who actually like them? Because if there are, I really think we should look into that. They are obviously not of their right minds." Stiles ranted, reaching out to hook a finger through one of Derek's belt loops.

Stiles could feel the dark tangle of emotions throbbing around inside Derek. He could easily distinguish between the sharp stabbing sense of unease Derek felt at having been forced into revealing their secret and the jangling fear that denoted his distress at not being in total control of their current situation. Felicity and her team held all of the cards, held the survival of the pack in the palm of their hands, and what they would do with that...

Derek was terrified.

"Hey." Stiles clambered up onto his knees, shuffling closer. He laid an open palm over Derek's heart, pushing calming energy through the connection. "Nothing is going to happen to the pack, Derek. Oliver has a secret to keep, too. I know you can't trust them but you need to trust me."

"I do trust you." Derek turned to catch Stiles' eye, feeling himself relax beneath his mate's touch. "And I didn't hear a single lie from Felicity. But, the archer is different. He smells like pain and longing. I'm pretty sure he was controlling his heartbeat, too."

Stiles frowned, his brows crinkling. "Why would he do that? How would he even know _to _do that? Felicity said that she was the only one to look at the database so far. There's no way Oliver would know that you could hear a lie."

"It wasn't like that." Derek struggled to find a way to explain what he got from the archer. "Even when we were in the alley, his heartbeat was steady. It didn't go up, it didn't go down. It felt like he did it without conscious thought."

"Well he is an archer." Stiles mused, his fingertips rubbing unconsciously where they laid on Derek's chest. "Allison controls her heartbeat when she's shooting. Maybe it's an extension of that."

"Yeah, maybe." Derek scratched at his stubble, considering.

"He's not a villain, Derek." Stiles said softly, resting his chin in the dip of Derek's shoulder. "He's one of the good guys. Like Batman." Suddenly, Stiles sat upright, his eyes going comically wide, his mouth hanging open as he replayed his last sentence in his mind. "Holy shit, do you think he knows Batman?!"

Derek couldn't help but laugh, couldn't stop the sound from bursting from his chest. "I really don't know, Stiles. I don't know that he'd tell you, even if he did."

Stiles was already scrambling to drag his phone from the pocket of his jeans. His fingers blurred over the screen, tapping something out before Derek could even open his mouth to ask, "What are you doing?"

"Texting Felicity to see if Oliver knows Batman." Stiles informed him, his tone making it sound as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"When did you two exchange numbers?" Derek asked gruffly, trying and failing to smooth out the wrinkle between his brows and the pouty downturn of his mouth.

Stiles glanced up at that, feeling the tremor of jealousy that sizzled through the bond. It wasn't unusual for Derek to get territorial or possessive when it came to his mate. It was actually something that Stiles had come to both expect and, to a lesser degree, enjoy. Derek's willingness to let anyone and everyone know that Stiles belonged to him, that Stiles was _his_... It never failed to send warmth licking through Stiles. Especially because Derek never tried to lord it over him. He respected that while Stiles was his mate, he was still his own person. He acknowledged that Stiles had a mind of his own, no matter how chaotic that mind might be, and that he submitted to Derek when, and only when, he chose to do so.

A lot of things had changed when Derek and Stiles had become _DerekandStiles. _They'd had to, really. Pack dynamics had shifted, just as they had when Scott claimed Issac as his mate a year after officially claiming Allison. Stiles had moved into the Hale house after almost six months, something Derek had wanted from the get-go but Stiles had insisted they wait until the Sheriff got used to the idea. John genuinely seemed to like Derek by that point, not even batting an eyelash when he'd stumble in from an overnight shift to find the Alpha and his son tangled together on the living room couch, fast asleep. But, leaving his dad for the first time in his entire existence was a big deal and something Stiles had wanted to do right.

One thing that hadn't changed was Stiles' inability to bite his tongue when there was something he needed to say, especially when that something was something he believed in. Derek still loved that about him, even when it thoroughly annoyed him. He loved that Stiles wasn't afraid to challenge him, to call Derek out when he needed it. Stiles was his anchor, giving him balance and equilibrium where there had only been an internal struggle and chaos for what seemed like forever.

Stiles soothed Derek and his wolf, touching both of them in different ways but with the same hand. Derek admired Stiles for the way he balanced the ability to respect Derek as an Alpha and as a partner, willing to defer to him when the situation called for it without appearing weak in the process.

Stiles gave Derek, and the rest of the pack, strength and heart. He kept them tethered to their humanity, Derek most of all. He was still mouthy and sarcastic, snarky and independent, but he embraced it. He was never afraid to speak his mind, to say exactly what he was thinking, sometimes verbatim and to hilarious effect. Stiles may have been claimed as Derek's mate and the emissary to their pack but in a lot of ways, he was still just _Stiles, s_omething Derek would be eternally grateful for.

"We traded while you and Oliver were busy glaring at one another." Stiles explained, grin wide and knowing. "It made sense seeing as how we're going to need to work together to figure all of this out. Communication is key, Derek."

"Figure what out?" Derek puzzled. "We found the hacker. I don't think she has any intention of making our lives difficult. After our meeting with Kiara tomorrow afternoon, we should head home."

"Home?" Stiles' face fell, his warm amber eyes belaying his objection before his mouth could make the argument. "We can't go home, Derek. Kiara's pack isn't equipped to deal with a Harpy on their own, and neither are Felicity and her team. Starling City doesn't have their own pack to take out the supernatural threats while Oliver deals with the human bad guys. We're the best chance this place has to put an end to this."

Derek buried his head in his hands, his fingers pushing through his inky black hair in frustration. "We have our own pack, our own town to worry about, Stiles. Why do you always want to charge in headfirst to things that we don't _have_ to fix? This is the mermaid incident all over again."

"First of all, that squamous wench deserved it. No one tries to drown my pups and gets away with it, I don't care if it was her river or not. We were on vacation for Christ's sake!" Stiles' eyes flared angrily with the memory. "And second, people are dying here. Harpies are dangerous at the best times, but this one is out of her fucking mind. Felicity sent me the reports. Six bodies in eight day, all of them torn apart and left in tatters, not to mention completely drained of blood. These aren't typical Harpy kills, Derek. Harpies don't drain their victims, and they most definitely don't leave them looking like deflated balloons. The police have no idea what they're dealing with or how to stop it. We do."

There was passion and determination flowing through the bond, stubbornness thick in the air and smelling spicy, reminiscent of cayenne. Derek knew it was useless to argue with Stiles when he got onto something like this, something he felt so strongly about, especially if there were innocent parties involved. Heroism and the urge to protect came naturally to Stiles. It was ingrained in his very DNA, printed on his soul like a warning to those who wished harm on the people he cared enough to protect. Once he decided a problem needed his attention there was nothing anyone, even Derek, could say to change his mind.

"Stiles, can we just-"

Derek was interrupted by Stiles' text tone alerting him to a new message. Stiles smiled sheepishly but grabbed up the phone, swiping a thumb across the screen to open the text. Derek watched him read for a beat before Stiles erupted in laughter, turning the screen so Derek could read it too.

_From: Mrs. Bownarro_

Derek huffed a laugh at the contact name, raising a slightly amused and mildly questioning eyebrow at Stiles who only grinned wider and said, "Oh, come on. I don't have to be a wolf to smell the unresolved sexual tension there. Besides, does Oliver Queen strike you as the type of man to deffer to just anyone?"

Derek shook his head fondly, dropping his eyes back to the screen.

_-Yes, Oliver knows Batman. No, I will not tell you his actual identity.-_

That text was immediately followed by another:

_-Do werewolves and cats get along?-_

"She has a golden opportunity to ask anything she wants about the supernatural and that's the question she goes with?" Derek blew a rough breath out through his nose, a cross between a huff and a snort.

"Dude, she's me in a skirt!" Stiles was laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes. He flopped back onto the bed, clutching his phone to his belly as he shook with laughter.

"I actually think she's older than you." Derek tossed over his shoulder as he bent forward to unlace his boots. "Technically, that makes you her with pants."

Stiles sobered a little a that, though his eyes still shined with humor, bright liquid gold. "I guess that makes you Oliver, then. You guys both like to rock a lot of leather, though, so I'm not really sure how to differentiate between the two of you." Stiles mused, typing out a reply before tossing the phone on the nightstand and rolling onto his stomach so that he could crawl toward Derek.

Derek made an affronted noise in the back of his throat. "He and I are _nothing _alike."

"Pfft." Stiles straightened up behind Derek, putting a knee on each side of his hips and winding his arms around Derek's shoulders. He planted an open mouthed kiss to the curve of Derek's neck before murmuring, "Whatever you say, Sourwolf."

With a growl that rumbled in his chest, Derek grabbed Stiles' arm and pulled him around, dragging him across his lap so that he could nip at his jaw in reprimand. Stiles tipped his head to the side, baring his neck without a second's hesitation. Derek took the offer, ignoring his desire to correct Stiles' assertion about he and Oliver, in favor of nibbling his way along Stiles' jaw until he reached his throat. Derek bit down on the thin skin over Stiles' pulse where it rushed just below the surface, drawing a ragged groan from Stiles' chest.

Stiles' phone chimed but they both ignored it, too wrapped up in one another to care and knowing that if it was an emergency someone would call. Derek shifted further back onto the bed as Stiles clamored to his knees, swinging one leg around so that he was straddling Derek's thighs. Stiles' fingers sank into the short hairs behind Derek's ears, angling his head so that he could lean down and bruise Derek's lips with his own.

With his hands curling around Stiles' hips, Derek opened for him, easily allowing Stiles to control the rhythm of the kiss, the warm slide of his lips against Derek's, the incongruously gentle tease of his tongue in every corner of Derek's mouth. Stiles rolled his pelvis forward as Derek's hands slipped under the back of his shirt, the tips of his fingers skimming gently up either side of Stiles' spine. Stiles shivered, goosebumps appearing on his flesh.

Stiles tore his mouth away from Derek's, dragging his lips along the Alpha's jaw and enjoying the tingle his stubble evoked. Tilting his head back, Derek gave Stiles unfettered access to his neck, something he'd only ever done for his mate. Derek moaned when Stiles' teeth scraped over his Adam's apple, his hips jerking up so hard he lifted Stiles off the bed.

Stiles laughed, his grin bright and his gaze tinged with passion when he met Derek's eyes. "Someone's a little eager, huh?"

Derek growled and used his preternatural speed to flip their positions before Stiles could protest. A burst of air rushed from Stiles' lungs when he landed, only Derek's hand in the dip of his spine stopping his breath from leaving him completely. Derek buried his face in the slope of Stiles' neck, inhaling deeply in an effort to clear the unfamiliar scents out of his sinuses.

It was something he did often, and even more frequently when they were away from home. Stiles' scent over the years had become synonymous with home and pack and family, and Derek always needed that when they were outside of Beacon Hills, outside their territory. Pressing his nose in close just below Stiles' ear, Derek inhaled him, his scent and everything that came with it, all the while smiling at the way Stiles squirmed beneath him.

"Better?" Stiles asked, rocking his hips unsubtly upwards as Derek's tongue flicked out to taste the scent.

"A little." Derek hooked a hand behind Stiles' knees, pulling them open so that he could settle between them, his breath hot and damp against Stiles' cheek as he nosed his way back to Stiles' mouth. "Would be even better if you didn't smell like lilacs."

Derek didn't tell him that he also smelled like the bodyguard, John. John's _pepper-molasses-gunpowder_ scent wasn't the one that made Derek's hackles rise, made his possessive instincts rear their ugly heads. No, it was Felicity's scent, soaked into Stiles' skin and altering his own just enough to make Derek's wolf whine, that Derek was worried about covering.

"Why the hell would I smell like..." Stiles trailed off, a frown creasing his face before understanding dawned. "Felicity?"

Derek nodded, his nose sliding against Stiles' and causing the other man to reach up to scratch it.

"Do you want me to go shower first?" Stiles inquired, always willing to do whatever he could to soothe Derek's instincts.

"No, it's fine." Derek lifted a hand to cup the side of Stiles' neck, layering his scent over the faint trace of Felicity's. "It's only a little bit of transfer."

"And you want to be the one to erase it." It wasn't a question. Stiles already knew that he was right, that Derek wanted, almost needed, to make Stiles smell like him, like _them_ again. He knew Derek wouldn't calm, his wolf wouldn't settle, until Stiles smelled like Stiles, no lingering traces of a handshake or other contact clinging to his skin. "Well, I can think of at least one foolproof way to cover me in your scent." Stiles waggled his eyebrows for emphasis, smirking roguishly.

Derek chuffed, his breath puffing over Stiles' lips. "Oh, I plan on it." he promised, the hand at Stiles' neck slipping lower to glide down over his waist, his hip, down his thigh to hike his knee just a little further up on Derek's hip.

Stiles arched away from the bed with a gasp when Derek rutted against him, his half-hard cock rubbing deliciously at Stiles' own throbbing dick. "Fuck, Derek." Stiles breathed, his fingertips digging into the hard cords of muscle that made up Derek's shoulders.

Derek growled, deep and fierce, the sound vibrating all the way down to Stiles' bones and making him shudder. Derek lifted himself off of Stiles just enough so that he could grab the collar of his shirt and rip the thing over his head. Without missing a beat, Stiles levered up to latch onto Derek's newly exposed skin before his head was even free of the shirt. Derek grunted as Stiles' teeth nipped sharply at one pebbled nipple, his tongue slipping out immediately to lave away the sting. Stiles trailed his open palms down the broad expanse of Derek's back, dipping his hands beneath Derek's jeans and sinking his nails into the globes of his ass.

"Jesus, Stiles." Derek breathed, his voice devolving into a stuttered groan when Stiles pulled him down on top of him and ground his trapped hard-on into Derek's pelvis.

"Too many clothes." Stiles complained, though he made no move to divest them of any. "We are wearing- _hnng- _too many clothes. Get your fucking jeans off."

Derek chuckled, the noise tickling across Stiles' throat and making him moan, his nails digging a little more roughly in Derek's cheeks. "You're still fully clothed. How am I the one who needs to lose my pants?"

"So take my pants off, asshole." Stiles scratched his nails up Derek's back, leaving quickly fading red welts in his wake.

Derek sat back on his heels, pulling Stiles with him, and tugged at the hem of Stiles' shirt, ripping it up and off in one quick motion. Stiles went for Derek's belt, long and dexterous fingers getting both his belt and button open with minimal effort. He bent forward, his lips finding the ridges of Derek's abs with unerring accuracy, sucking and biting at the peaks and valleys until Derek's chin was resting on his chest and he was looking down at Stiles through heavily lidded eyes.

Stiles worked Derek's zipper down, kissing every newly exposed centimeter of skin. Derek's fingers wound their way into Stiles' hair, kneading lightly at his scalp. Hooking his fingers into the waist of Derek's jeans, Stiles pulled them down his hips to bunch low around Derek's thighs.

"I thought you wanted me to take _your _pants off." Derek said through gritted teeth, his eyes never straying from where Stiles was nibbling at the cut of his pelvis.

"Yeah well," Stiles lapped at the crease of Derek's hip and thigh, his chin brushing the side of Derek's swollen cock, "I got tired of waiting. You know how impatient I can be."

"You really have a knack- _shit- _for understatements." Derek hissed, his fingers clenching in Stiles' hair as Stiles' open mouth grazed along his length, his tongue flicking out to taste Derek's blood-hot skin.

"No way in hell are you just figuring that out now." Stiles smirked before he sucked the head of Derek's cock into the warm wetness of his mouth.

Derek's head fell back, a jagged moan tearing its way up his throat as Stiles' tongue swirled around his leaking head. He rocked forward, nudging a little deeper into Stiles' mouth. Stiles moaned around him, his hands curling around Derek's hips, his fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises that would fade away almost before they formed. Stiles' mouth sank down around Derek's cock, his tongue rolling along the thick vein that ran from tip to base as Derek hit the back of his throat.

"Fucking Christ." Derek gasped out, his hand cupping the back of Stiles' head, urging him on.

Stiles sucked firmly and twirled his tongue, his hands joining the mix to stroke Derek's balls, fondling them gently. Derek bucked, biting his lip with teeth that were just a little too sharp. Not deterred in the slightest by the rumbling growl building in Derek's chest, Stiles kept at it, working Derek's cock like the pro that he was. Every swipe of his tongue, every glide of his lips, every squeeze of his throat, brought Derek a little closer to the edge, sent lightning sparking down his spine in searing pulses.

Stiles pulled off with an obscene pop, licking his lips as he shifted back on his elbows, lifting his hips invitingly. "Come on, Derek." He grinned, rolling his body smoothly before reaching for his own belt. "I think I can still smell lilacs."

Derek snarled, falling forward to cover Stiles' body with his own. His hands snaked between them to bat Stiles' fingers away before they got the belt undone. Derek took over, opening the belt with a flick of his wrist before setting to work on the button and zipper. Stiles lifted his ass off the bed to help shimmy his way out of his jeans, gasping and landing back on the mattress with an oomph when Derek licked a wet stripe up his sternum. Shuddering, Stiles' eyes fluttered closed as Derek lined them up and slid their cocks together, the glide smooth thanks to Stiles' saliva coating Derek's taunt skin.

"Open your eyes." Derek commanded, rocking into Stiles with deliberately long, agonizingly slow thrusts. "Look at me, Stiles." he rasped, his voice sandpaper rough as he fisted a hand around both their cocks, jerking them steadily.

Stiles' eyes popped open, hearing the demand in Derek's tone. Golden irises sought out ethereal green ones, finding them much closer than he'd anticipated. Derek's forehead was pressed to his, his mouth open and his breath puffing out in labored pants against Stiles' lips. Gazes locked on one another, they moved together, Derek's hips snapping forward to meet every one of Stiles' upward shoves. They writhed in staggered tandem, a sweaty tangle of limbs and tongues. Stiles added his hand to Derek's, slotting their fingers together to work their cocks.

"Holy God." Stiles bowed off the bed, his voice coming out strangled and breathless when Derek swiped a thumb over his dripping head. "This isn't going to last much longer." he warned, already feeling the familiar heat pooling low in his belly.

"Good." Derek grinned sharply, increasing his tempo. He dropped his mouth to Stiles' neck, sucking a mark into his skin and ripping a hoarse moan from Stiles' chest. Derek's grin turned almost feral, all wolf when he clamped down on the curve of Stiles' neck, his blunt human teeth sinking into Stiles' flesh.

Stiles came then, Derek's name spilling from his lips on a punched-out cry as he spurted hot and wet between them. Derek stroked him through it, mouthing at the bite mark he left until Stiles was a whimpering pile of raw nerves beneath him.

When Stiles was too sensitive to tolerate touch, Derek rearranged himself so that he was straddling Stiles' hips, kneeling above him with one hand beside Stiles' head to hold himself up. He stroked himself hard and fast until he groaned raggedly and came all over Stiles' chest, come landing in thick white ropes on Stiles' flushed skin. Stiles groaned at the sensation, his fingers biting into Derek's thighs as the werewolf quivered and panted above him.

When Derek's brain rebooted enough to revive his ability to move, he collapsed next to Stiles, burying his nose in the crook of his mate's neck, licking gently at the sure-to-bruise imprint of his teeth, slinging an arm and a leg over Stiles' body with no care at all for the cooling come covering both of them.

Stiles slowly regained motor function, along with the feeling in his limbs, and shifted closer, snuggling into Derek and pressing a kiss into the damp hair sticking to his forehead. "You're not gonna let me shower, are you?" He already knew the answer, and he honestly didn't even mind, but he couldn't resist the urge to tease Derek.

"Not a chance." Derek smiled into Stiles' throat, nuzzling his nose against his skin to inhale their combined scent, no trace of lilac to be found.

"You're lucky I love you, Hale." Stiles tangled their legs together, paying no mind to the fact that they were half hanging off the bed.

Derek chuckled. "Don't I know it."

* * *

Oliver stood on the training mats, his feet set wide apart for balance as he struck out at the sparring dummy with taped fists. Hours had passed since the lair had emptied of werewolves, so many that the sun would be creeping up over the horizon in the next half an hour, but Oliver had yet to relax. He'd barely sat still long enough for Digg to clean and wrap the wound on his ribs before he was stalking off across the lair to hit stuff.

Felicity watched Oliver work out his confusion and unease, watched as sweat shined wetly on his skin, while simultaneously carrying on half of a conversation with Roy and Diggle.

"So, you hacked their database by accident?" Roy asked dubiously, one brow cocked in disbelief.

"Not exactly." Felicity frowned, talking to Roy but her eyes never moving off of Oliver. "I found it by accident. I hacked it entirely on purpose."

"Bet you didn't think werewolves would be the end result of that little endeavor." Diggle grinned, flipping through the topic of discussion on Felicity's tablet, perusing file after file at random.

"Holy shit, is that a unicorn?" Roy exclaimed, catching sight of the file from where he leaned in close to read over Digg's shoulder.

"Looks like." Digg nodded. "Saw a Pegasus a few pages back."

"There's an entire entry about dragons, too." Felicity threw in, her eyes following Oliver as he crossed the room to start his climb on the Salmon ladder. She winced in sympathy when Oliver grunted, the skin over his ribs no doubt tugging and making pain flash through him. Not that Oliver would admit that, or let it stop him from burning off steam.

"Does anyone else have the distinct feeling that they went to sleep and woke up in an alternate reality in which werewolves are a thing and Oliver regressed back to using angry exercise as an excuse to ignore what's really going on?" Roy questioned, eyebrows raised as he looked from Felicity to John and back again.

"Werewolves do not exist." Oliver snapped from the fourth rung, acknowledging the topic of conversation for the first time since the Hale-McCall pack left the lair.

"Seriously, Oliver?" Felicity asked disbelievingly. "Mirakuru infected super soldiers, men from outer space with the power to shoot lasers from their eyes, and lightning enhanced science geeks are totally legitimate, but werewolves are where we draw the line?"

Oliver growled an irritated response but otherwise ignored the question.

"Do you think they'd show us?" Roy asked, tilting his head as he thought about it. "If Oliver saw them change there's no way he could deny they exist. Three werewolves shift forms in front of you and pretending they don't exist suddenly gets a hell of a lot harder to do."

"Two werewolves." Felicity corrected automatically. "Stiles is human. Or, mostly human, I guess. He has some kind of magic but he didn't really explain beyond that. The database has him listed as a mage and an emissary to the Hale-McCall pack, but I haven't really figured out what that means yet."

"Still." Roy shrugged. "Two werewolves are still pretty hard to argue with. Why didn't we ask them before we let them leave?"

"We didn't let them leave, Roy." Diggle informed the younger man, his eyes skimming a paragraph on something called a Lamia. "They weren't our prisoners."

"Besides, everyone was a little on edge and I really wanted to avoid any incidents." Felicity explained, eyes cutting sideways in time to watch Oliver swing the bar up to the next rung. "I mean, if you had something that made you different, something special, would you want people just randomly asking you to make a spectacle of yourself?"

Roy shrugged again. "How else are we supposed to believe these guys? Maybe this is all some super elaborate role playing game or some shit."

"Then why bother guarding the database so heavily?" Digg asked, always the pragmatist. "And why come all the way from Beacon Hills to find out who subverted that security?"

"Digg's right." Felicity swung her chair around to grab her phone from beside her keyboard. "I'm going to ask Stiles if he wants to grab a coffee later, I'll talk to him-"

There was a loud clank of metal and a heavy thud that interrupted Felicity's sentence.

"You are not having coffee with him." Oliver practically snarled from the floor where he'd landed below the ladder.

Felicity arched a challenging eyebrow, bristling at the command in Oliver's tone.

"Uh oh." Roy muttered, rolling his chair backwards and taking Digg with him.

"I'm sorry, I must have misheard you." Felicity leaned back in her chair, laying her phone in her lap and crossing her arms over her chest. "I could have sworn you just tried to forbid me from having coffee with a new friend."

"He's not a new friend, Felicity." Oliver snapped, swiping a towel across his angry forehead. "He's a lunatic that thinks werewolves are real. He could be dangerous!"

Felicity snorted her disbelief. "Did we meet the same Stiles? I'm relatively sure his only real weapons are sarcasm and snark, Oliver. And he's not a lunatic. Just because you're too stubborn to believe that werewolves exist, that there are things out there that no branch of science can even begin to explain, doesn't make the people who do believe crazy."

"You're not having coffee with him." Oliver proved his stubborn streak by petulantly repeating the demand.

Felicity shoved herself up and out of her chair, striding across the room to stop in front of Oliver. She'd kicked her heels off sometime during the evening but she ignored the several inches of height Oliver had on her. She poked him hard in his bare chest, her eyes glittering with anger. "In case you've forgotten, You don't get to decide that, Oliver. I'm a grown woman. I make my own choices about who I spend my free time with. If I want to have coffee with Stiles, I'm going to have coffee with Stiles. End of discussion."

Oliver opened his mouth to argue further but was cut off by Felicity's phone blaring Lance's ringtone. Felicity glared at Oliver for a beat before turning away to answer the call. Oliver stared at her back as she walked away, only shifting his gaze when Roy whistled from where he and Diggle sat back, watching them.

"What?" Oliver snapped, scowling darkly at the younger man.

"Jealousy is not a good look on you." Roy shook his head, a knowing smirk curling his lips.

Mouth turned down in a frustrated frown, Oliver ignored Roy to return his attention to Felicity. She had disconnected the call and was staring down at her phone as though it had personally offended her.

"What is it?" Oliver asked, surging forward with no thought for their argument a minute before. "What's wrong?"

Felicity lifted her head, her eyes shadowed and sad. "There's been another kill."


	5. Seeing Is Believing

The sun was just starting to slip through the heavy hotel curtains when Stiles' cellphone shrieked to life, startling him from a dead sleep. He jolted awake, smacking Derek across the chest and getting his legs tangled in the bedsheets as he struggled to drag himself across the bed in an effort to reach the phone.

"Wha's it?" Stiles mumbled, holding the phone to the side of his head as he tried to force his eyes open.

"Stiles?" The female voice asked hesitantly. "It's Felicity Smoak."

"Felicity." Stiles repeated, too tired to produce anything else. He sat upright, rubbing a hand across his eyes. Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, Stiles figured he and Derek had only been asleep for about four hours, after having showered and poured over the files Felicity had sent him.

"Yeah. Look, I'm sorry to wake you up so early, and I know Alpha Hale doesn't really trust me, trust us, but I thought you'd want to be the first to know." Felicity took a deep breath before continuing. "The Harpy's killed again. Our contact in the SCPD called about ten minutes ago."

"Where?" Stiles asked, suddenly much more alert than he had been. He shoved hard at Derek's side but the Alpha was already awake, his eyes on Stiles' face.

"Down by the docks." She read off the address while Stiles hauled himself out of bed and fought his way into a pair of jeans.

"We'll be right there." Stiles told her before quickly hanging up and tapping the address into his phone's GPS.

Derek was dragging a Henley over his head when Isaac knocked on the door a few minutes later, dressed and ready for action.

"What exactly are we hoping to accomplish by going to the crime scene?" Isaac asked, following Stiles and Derek to the elevator.

Derek punched the button to call the car, dragging a hand through his hair while Stiles flicked through the database, skimming over the information they'd managed to accumulate on Harpies to refresh his memory.

"If we can pick up a scent we can start tracking." Derek explained, stepping into the elevator when the doors slid open. "The sooner we handle this, the sooner we can go home."

"Right, but won't it be hard to find the scent? There's got to be a ton of other scents tainting the scene by now." Isaac pointed out.

Stiles looked up at that, his thumb stilling on the screen of his phone. "Harpies have a really distinct scent. And, this one is batshit crazy. You guys can pick up the scent of madness." Stiles shrugged. "Plus, I can help weed out the non-supernatural scents if I need to."

Derek reached up and brushed his fingers across the side of Stiles' neck, silently asking an all to familiar question. Stiles leaned into the touch briefly, a wordless reassurance.

As they made their way across the lobby and out to the car Stiles grinned to himself while Derek patted his pockets in search of his car keys.

"Looking for these?" Stiles asked, keys dangling from his middle finger.

Derek rolled his eyes and snatched the keys away, shoving a chuckling Stiles toward the passenger side. "Get in the car, Stiles. If we hurry we can stop and get coffee on the way."

Stiles obediently scrambled into his seat.

* * *

Oliver watched impatiently from above, positioned atop a warehouse that hadn't yet been allowed to open due to its proximity to the crime scene. The ground below was disturbingly free of blood for the state the body had been found in; Torn to shreds and mostly collapsed in on itself just like the others. The scene left Oliver feeling unsettled, an uneasiness curling low in his stomach that made his fingers twitch with the urge to pluck his bow string. He couldn't see Felicity from where he perched but he could hear her in his ear, mumbling to herself about the stench of dead fish permeating the air.

"You were the one who insisted on coming." Oliver reminded her quietly.

"Would you have preferred I left you to the wolves?" Felicity muttered back, the nasally tone telling him that she was trying her hardest to not breathe through her nose.

Oliver heaved a resigned sigh, not at all convinced that calling them had been a good idea. The only reason he was going along with any of it was because he trusted Felicity intrinsically. He didn't, for a second, believe in werewolves or magic or Harpies, but he _did _believe in Felicity. "I still don't understand what you think they can do." he grumbled, because he might be letting things play out but that didn't mean he was pleased about it.

Felicity snorted and Oliver would swear he could hear her rolling her eyes. "That's because you refuse to believe that there's the slightest possibility that something is going on here which we can't even begin to understand. This is what Stiles and his pack do, Oliver. They deal with stuff like this on a daily basis."

"That statement was not nearly as comforting as I think you wanted it to be." Oliver informed her, one corner of his mouth lifting.

Felicity huffed a tiny laugh. "Just give them a chance. They can help us, Oliver. We owe it to our city to let them try."

Silence fell between them, Oliver mulling over her point while Felicity kept an eye out for Stiles and his wolves. She only had to wait another minute before the gunmetal gray SUV pulled to the curb a half a block down and Stiles, Derek, and Isaac climbed out. Felicity watched Derek pause for a beat, his nose wrinkling as he scented the air unpleasantly tainted with death and aquatic life, and then the Alpha was muttering something to Stiles, whose head whipped in Felicity's direction, a warm smile on his lips but a determined glint in his eyes.

"They're here." Felicity informed Oliver lowly, under no delusions that the wolves couldn't hear every word she said.

"Keep your guard up, Felicity." Oliver instructed. "I know that you trust them, but... Please, just be careful."

"I will." Felicity promised just as the pack reached her and Stiles greeted her with a, "I find it horribly unfair that you still look gorgeous even though I assume you have yet to sleep."

Felicity grinned at him, tension she hadn't even realized she'd been carrying seeping out of her shoulders despite the low chuff of irritation in her ear. "It's my superpower." she laughed. She offered a nod of greeting in Isaac's direction and a deferential "Alpha Hale." to Derek.

Stiles rolled his eyes at the formality, but only said, "I thought unparalleled hacking skills were your super power." He raised one brow above a playful smirk.

"That too." Felicity conceded as she withdrew her cell from the pocket of her skirt. She typed out a quick text to Quentin to let him know her '"experts" had arrived. Giving her attention back to the pack, she gave them the rundown. "The victim is a twenty-four year old female, found by a security guard on his morning rounds. Body is in the exact same condition as the others."

"How many people have been on scene?" Derek asked, eyes scanning around them even as he tried to filter through scents.

"Six officers, the coroner, and the security guard. Our contact has tried to keep contamination to a minimum." Felicity informed him, turning in place and motioning them to follow her.

Isaac and Derek moved to follow but Stiles stayed put, gaze sweeping the surrounding buildings.

Derek stopped, turning back to ask, "What's wrong?"

"I need a vantage point." Stiles announced. "I can't help map out scents if I can't see the entire scene."

Felicity gnawed on her bottom lip in deliberation before she made a decision. "Oliver is on that roof." She pointed to the tallest warehouse surrounding the scene. "There are stairs at the back of the building."

Stiles beamed. "Thanks. You guys go with Felicity and get a close up." he said, practically shooing them away.

"No." Derek and Oliver both snapped, though Stiles could only hear Derek's objection.

"Fine." Stiles relented easily with a roll of his eyes. "I'll take Isaac with me. You go with Felicity." he told Derek.

Felicity pressed her lips together to stop from smiling at the way Derek capitulated to Stiles' wishes, also ignoring the huff of annoyance in her ear from Oliver. She and Derek stood in place and watched as Stiles and Isaac disappeared behind the warehouses.

"Ready?" Felicity asked, grateful that the nervous edge stayed out of her voice. It wasn't that she was afraid of Derek, per se. It was the unknown wolf that made her skin prickle uncomfortably, not the man.

Derek gave one sharp jerk of his chin and motioned for her to lead the way.

* * *

"Fancy meeting you here." Stiles quipped as he stepped onto the warehouse roof, catching sight of Oliver standing rigidly by the opposite wall. He was only a little surprised to see Oliver dressed in jeans and a Henley rather than his leathers, but guessed it was more inconspicuous in the daylight if he dressed normally.

"Stiles." Oliver sighed. Funny how he'd learned to sound exasperated so quickly.

He offered a nod of acknowledgment to Isaac and then turned his back on them, giving his focus back to the scene below, where Derek and Felicity had just stepped into view, Felicity speaking quietly with Lance while Derek walked a slow circle around the newest corpse. It was a deliberate move on Oliver's part, offering them his back. He wanted them to know he had no reason to fear them, that he dismissed them as a threat.

Briefly Stiles wondered if Oliver would have done the same thing if Derek had stepped out onto the roof along with them. He was willing to bet money on the negative.

"Well, don't let us disturb you." Stiles said, already heading for the opposite end of the ledge from where Oliver stood, Isaac at his side with watchful eyes that belayed his readiness to protect Stiles with a moments notice. "This won't take long and then we'll be out of your hair. Though," he added, considering, "if you're susceptible to magic you might want to, like, go for a walk or something."

Oliver leveled him with his best _bitch please_ look, purposefully staying put.

"Your call, dude." Stiles shrugged as he sat cross-legged on the lip of the roof, Isaac hovering at his side, hands poised to snatch him back should he even so much as wobble.

Oliver watched, intrigued despite himself, as Stiles rolled up his sleeves and let his eyes fall closed, elbows resting on his thighs and palms open, facing the scene below. The three of them were completely silent for a long moment in which Oliver began to wonder when the smoke and mirrors bullshit was supposed to start. He was just about to break the silence and demand that Stiles and his "wolves" get out of dodge and stop wasting his time when something in the air shifted.

A chill snaked up Oliver's spine, goosebumps rising up on every inch of his skin, each and every tiny hair follicle going stiff and standing at attention. A low pitched buzz of sound filled his head, like the hum of electricity, resonating deep in his chest and making his pulse quicken despite his best efforts to control it, a skill he mastered on Lian Yu and did daily without conscious thought. His stomach flipped, a hint of nausea rolling through his gut as the oddest sensation of something tugging behind his sternum made his mouth fall open in astonishment.

Where there had been a light breeze just a second before the air was now eerily still, as though even Mother Nature dared not disturb whatever was happening. Oliver caught the tail end of a whispered phrase tumbling from Stiles' lips and then the kid was opening wide, unfocused and unseeing but disconcertingly clear eyes and staring straight ahead at absolutely nothing.

"What-" Oliver began, only to stutter to a stop when the air around Stiles _shimmered_.

"You were right, Isaac." Stiles murmured, his voice oddly distant and slightly hollow. "There are a lot of scents here. Mostly human, if I discount Derek's. But, there is..." he trailed off, head tilting curiously. "There's magic, too. I don't recognize it, but it's strong."

"What about the Harpy?" Isaac questioned, watching Stiles intently.

Stiles frowned, his brow wrinkling with focus. Isaac waited patiently, ignoring Oliver completely in favor of giving all of his attention to Stiles. Oliver was grateful that the wolf – Jesus Christ, was he actually starting to believe this shit? - paid him no mind since he was busy scrabbling to make some sense of what he was seeing with his own eyes.

After another oppressively silent moment Stiles spoke. "Okay, I got it. Give me a minute, I should be able to single out those two scents."

Oliver watched, totally enthralled as Stiles raised both hands and swept them through the air, a gesture startlingly similar to the way Felicity moved her hands over the touch screens in the lair. The air around Stiles' hand seemed to ripple and shift, displaced by his movements as he worked, bottom lip caught between his teeth in concentration.

Suddenly, Stiles gagged, listing sideways and falling right into the waiting hands of Isaac.

"Okay?" Isaac asked, the concern in his tone enough to have Oliver's heart softening just the slightest bit.

"M'fine." Stiles shuddered, fighting back another gag. "God, Harpies smell fucking _awful_." he complained as he struggled to get his feet under him.

Oliver noticed that Stiles' knees shook when he finally managed to stand of his own volition, one of Isaac's hands in the small of his back to steady him. He wondered exactly how much energy it took for Stiles to perform the... Charm? Spell? Whatever, he had just performed.

"What...?" Oliver tried to ask, head swimming with what he'd just witnessed and something that reminded him of days long past, of mornings where he'd resurface from the bottom of a bottle only to find his head cracked in two and his stomach settled angrily in his throat.

"What was that?" Stiles offered, eyes refocused and fixed hard on Oliver. "That was me making it easier for my pack to track the scents they need to track in order to find these guys."

"Wait." Isaac interjected, a frown turning down the corners of his mouth. "These guys?"

Stiles nodded, casting a quick glance over the edge of the roof to make sure Derek was listening. "This isn't just a Harpy on a rampage. Someone's helping her."

* * *

Oliver was already waiting by the time Felicity slid into the driver's seat of her car, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling in the way Oliver knew told of her excitement at having made an advancement in their investigation.

Felicity had no sooner closed the door behind her than she was talking excitedly, a rapid fire string of sentences filling up the smallish interior of the car and crashing harshly into Oliver's splitting head. He winced when she twisted her keys in the ignition, even the quiet purr of the car's engine making his head throb.

Frowning, Felicity shifted in her seat after turning the key back and silencing the engine. "What's wrong?" she queried, eyes searching Oliver's gray washed face. "You don't look so hot."

She reached across the space, laying a hand gently against his forehead. Oliver sighed into the touch, his eyes falling shut as he leaned into it. Her skin was cool, soothing the worst of the pounding in his head and calming the roiling in his belly.

"I'm fine." Oliver tried, knowing it wouldn't be enough to appease her but hoping she'd let it slide for the time being. He didn't know how to even begin to explain what had happened on the roof, or how he'd felt perfectly fine right up until Stiles had done whatever it was he'd done. "It's just a migraine, I think."

Felicity frowned deeply at that, her eyes shadowed with concern. She leaned across him to dig through her glove compartment, pulling out a bottle of Excedrin and pressing it into his hand. "Take a few of these. Derek said that tracking the scents might take a while, but Stiles promised to call if they found anything. You should get some rest while we wait. Oh, and Stiles also said to tell you that Gatorade is your friend, but I have no idea what that means, so..."

Oliver was less surprised that Stiles knew he was suffering than he was to hear Felicity refer to the Alpha by his first name. The kid had warned him, after all. Oliver suppressed the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach at Felicity's apparent new found ease with their supernatural guests and dry swallowed a small handful of the pills.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Felicity asked, her voice as gentle as the hand she laid over his where it rested on the center console.

"Yeah, I'm good." Oliver assured, leaning his head wearily back on his headrest and letting his eyelids flutter shut. "I just need to close my eyes for a little bit. And maybe grab a Gatorade."


	6. Family Ties

**Author's Note: Hey my lovelies! I know that this chapter took a while, but I want to thank you guys for sticking it out. Your love for this story is what keeps me writing it. **

**If you're still reading, thank you and I adore each and every one of you!**

* * *

While Derek and Isaac had to rely on their noses to follow the two scents Stiles had managed to untangle from the crime scene, Stiles himself only had to follow his eyes. The Harpy's scent glowed in a sickly shade of yellow, while the mysterious trail of magic pulsed a dark and twisted shade of red, veined through with a black so empty Stiles wondered if it was truly a color at all, or if it was the absolute absence of light.

"Is it another mage?" Derek questioned, turning left when Stiles pointed from the passenger seat.

"Yeah, that'd be my guess. It's definitely not Druidic, isn't drawn from the earth. Whatever it is, it's dark." Stiles chewed the inside of his cheek as he watched the yellow trail fade into nothing at the end of the deserted street well within the depths of Starling City's warehouse district. "Like, seriously dark. Turn here."

Derek did as he was told, steering the SUV down a one way street.

"A mage and a Harpy walk into a bar." Isaac mumbled from the backseat, grinning at his own joke.

"What did you get from the scene?" Stiles asked, ignoring Isaac in favor of focusing on the fading crimson trail.

"It's more what I didn't get." Derek scowled, pulling over at Stiles' direction. All three of them climbed out of the car, the wolves following Stiles when he stepped into the mouth of an alley. "I didn't smell anything to suggest madness." Derek explained, shrugging when Stiles cast a raised brow over his shoulder. "Whatever is going on with this Harpy, I don't think she's crazy."

"Then what the hell is she doing?" Isaac asked, wrinkling his nose in disgust when the wind in the alley shifted and they were hit with a wall of stench, garbage and urine the predominant scents.

Derek shrugged, but Stiles was the one that responded. "The magic trail flickers out right here." He pointed to a gangway between two warehouses, empty except for an old cardboard box that looked to have at one point been someone's home.

"Can you get it back?" Derek wondered, eyes scanning the ground around them.

Stiles was already shaking his head. "It doesn't fade or jump somewhere else, it straight up ends. There's nothing to get back."

"Fuck." Derek growled in annoyance.

"It's just as well." Stiles sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. "I need to eat something before I fall over anyway, and we need to call Scott. Looks like we're gonna need the rest of the pack, after all."

* * *

Oliver woke with a start, the pounding in his head having softened to a dull ache and the contents of his stomach having settled back where they were supposed to be. Falling asleep hadn't been his intention, he'd only meant to close his eyes to stop them from feeling as though they were being stabbed with needles every time he blinked. But, sleeping was apparently exactly what he'd done. If his phone was to be believed it was nearly two o'clock in the afternoon by the time Oliver forced himself up from the roll-away bed to stagger across the empty lair.

Emerging from the bathroom, one hand typing out a text while the other rubbed at his temple, Oliver was relieved to hear the familiar click of high heels on the steel staircase.

"Oh, good, you're awake." Felicity grinned, holding up a cardboard tray with Big Belly burger bags and a pair of take-out cups nestled inside. "I brought you lunch. Grease is apparently the cure for magical hangovers, as well as the regular kind."

Oliver took the box from her, setting it on a nearby table. "Magical hangovers?" he questioned.

Felicity nodded. "Stiles' term, not mine. He called while you were asleep, said to make sure you ate something after you woke up. I guess a crash is pretty typical the first few times. What was it like, anyway?"

Oliver didn't have to ask to know what she was referring to. "Unbelievable." he answered honestly, awe tinging the single word. "I'm still not sure I can trust what I saw. I know that I saw it, that I felt it, but I'm..."

"Having a hard time believing?" Felicity guessed, poking a straw into her cup. Oliver nodded, eyebrows knotting together over a frown as he unwrapped a burger. "Well, you'd better wrap your head around it before the rest of the pack arrives." Felicity informed him, popping a fry into her mouth.

"The rest of the pack?" he asked, unsure. "How many more wolves is that?"

"According to the database, the Hale-McCall pack consists of seven wolves, two hunters, a banshee, three humans, and Stiles." Felicity recited from memory. "I don't know how many of them are actually coming to Starling, but I'd be willing to bet it's going to be more than a few."

"I thought Stiles was human." Oliver said, before taking a huge bite of his lunch.

"I guess so." Felicity lifted one shoulder, letting it fall as she settled into a chair, kicking her feet up and tucking her bare toes beneath Oliver's thigh. "But, it feels strange to not recognize how different he is from us typical, everyday humans. Even the database lists him as something other than entirely human, and he wrote the damn thing."

Oliver considered that, chewing thoughtfully. After swallowing he had to agree. "You should ask him to show you his magic." Felicity arched a brow high at that, surprise evident in her expression. Oliver continued, "It's hard to deny all of this; Werewolves, magic, all of it... It's hard to pretend it doesn't exist when you see what Stiles can do."

Felicity smiled, an expression that was somehow proud and dripping with affection, making Oliver's stomach clench. "Is Oliver Queen admitting he was wrong?" she questioned teasingly.

Ignoring the all too familiar swooping sensation in his gut, Oliver returned her smile. "Do you want to take a picture to memorialize the occasion?"

"As a matter of fact, I would." Felicity rolled her eyes, biting into a french fry. After a second, her expression shifted, understanding and something like sympathy lighting her eyes. "I just... I know how hard it is for you to accept things at face value. Even after all this time you still doubt everything, everyone, until proven wrong beyond a shadow of a doubt. And even then, sometimes you're too stubborn to accept what's staring you right in the face. Werewolves and magic? I thought it would take more than watching Stiles cast a spell for you to believe."

Oliver swallowed his bite of burger, leaning back in his chair and meeting Felicity's gaze. "I did too, honestly. But... You didn't see it, Felicity. I've never seen anything like it, never felt that kind of power before. It was like... Like Stiles was a natural disaster just waiting to happen, all packaged into this breakable human shell. The air around us _shimmered_, Felicity. You know how air above hot blacktop ripples in waves? Like that, but more."

"The hangover probably helped with the reality accepting aspect." Felicity mused, using her feet to pull her chair closer to Oliver's.

Chuckling, Oliver reached out and stole a fry from Felicity's lap. "Probably. Hangovers are how I learned most of my lessons as a teenager."

* * *

Back in Beacon Hills, Scott stood in the living room of the Hale house, arms crossed over his chest as he surveyed his pack.

"So," Erica grinned from Boyd's lap, her scarlet painted lips curling at the corners, "basically what you're saying is 'road trip'?"

Scott shook his head fondly, not at all surprised that his pups were making light of the situation. It wasn't that they wouldn't throw themselves into the fray without a thought for their own survival, because they would do it in heartbeat, with the full confidence of their pack having their backs. Over the years though, the pack had learned to keep things light until they got too heavy to keep defying gravity. It was a way for them to keep their heads level, of not letting the fear and worry consume them. Scott was convinced Stiles was behind the strategy, and was beyond grateful that the pack followed his lead without question, in this and just about everything else.

"Yeah." Scott sighed, nodding to Allison when she held up her phone in question, wanting to know if she should call her father. "Road trip."

"Call 'em out." Jackson waved a hand from his recliner where Lydia was perched on the arm.

"Peter and Danny, you two will stay here to help Chris and the Sheriff hold down the fort." At the nods of understanding he received, Scott continued, "Jackson, Lydia, Allison, and I will take the Toyota, and Boyd and Erica will take the Camaro."

"Seriously?" Boyd hefted a brow at Scott's orders while Erica squealed excitedly, "I'm driving!"

"Not one scratch!" Scott pointed at Erica, his eyes hard. "You scratch my car and I'll rip your arm off and beat you with it."

Erica blinked innocently, an expression that was at direct odds with the smirk tugging up one side of her mouth. "You're more protective of that car than Derek ever was." she told him, her tone dripping sweetness.

"That's because it came from Derek." Lydia rolled her eyes, already mapping out the quickest route to Starling City on her phone.

Scott didn't bother arguing with that. The whole pack knew how much it meant to Scott when Derek gave him the Camaro. No one talked about the tears in Scott's eyes when Derek had handed him the keys after their high school graduation, even if they teased him mercilessly for being Derek's favorite. Scott didn't care. The Camaro was a symbol of how far he and Derek had come in their relationship and he felt no shame in being emotional about that.

"Dad said he'll call the Sheriff." Allison announced, coming back into the living room as she stuffed her phone into her back pocket, saving Scott from having to respond. "We're good to go."

"We'll leave in the morning." Scott informed them. "Stiles said that there's some stuff we need to discuss before we meet up with this... Team." He cast a sideways glance at Jackson, before refocusing on the pack as a whole.

"So, this 'Arrow' guy and his team are responsible for the breach?" Danny questioned from the couch, voice skeptical.

"One of them is an IT expert." Scott shrugged one shoulder. "According to Isaac, her name is Felicity and she's some kind of genius."

Lydia glanced up at that, the bored expression on her face shifting into one of open curiosity. As one of their resident geniuses, Scott guessed she was eager to investigate that particular claim.

"We're sure that this is a good idea, right?" Erica asked. "I mean, we're not walking into some kind of trap, are we?"

"Stiles trusts them." Scott stated plainly. That was enough for him and it would be enough for the betas, too. "As for the Harpy and the dark mage... I guess we just wait and see."

As the pack filtered out, each of them heading off to their respective rooms and homes in order to pack for the trip, Scott caught Jackson's elbow and jerked his head in the direction of the library. Jackson frowned in confusion but followed his Alpha anyway, leaving Lydia to chat with Allison on the porch.

"What's up?" Jackson asked once they were both inside the library, the heavy oak door closed firmly behind them.

"There's something you need to know about this team, Jackson." Scott said seriously, the deep crease between his brows looking out of place on his normally grinning face.

Jackson crossed his arms and waited expectantly.

Running a hand over his face, Scott let out a deep breath and said, "You've never said much about your biological parents."

Baffled by the apparent change in subject, Jackson's eyebrows knotted together and his shoulders tightened defensively. "So? I don't know enough about them to have anything to say."

"What do you know?" Scott pressed, not unaware of the heavy weight of confusion and old pain pressing on the pack bond.

Jackson clenched his jaw, briefly considered ignoring the question, but ultimately pushed the answer past the snarl of emotions in his throat. "I know that they're dead. After the accident... The doctors managed to keep my mother alive long enough to deliver me by c-section, but my father died on scene. Before that, I have no idea. Look, McCall, I don't know what you want from me-"

"Stiles thinks you have a brother." Scott blurted, wanting to snatch the words back the moment he saw Jackson go rigidly still, his jaw so tight it looked painful and his eyes flashing brilliant blue.

"What the fuck did you just say?" Jackson eventually growled, his words coming out on a lisp around his fangs, his fingers flexing to hold back claws.

Scott didn't flash his eyes at the beta, knowing without question that Jackson's anger had little to do with him and everything to do with the messy tangle of emotions whipping through his own head.

"A brother." Scott repeated. "An identical twin brother, actually. His name is-"

"No." Jackson snapped, shaking his head and backing toward the door. "I don't give a shit what his name is. I don't know what you and Stilinski are playing at here but I don't want any fucking part of it."

"Jackson, come on. Don't you want to know if you have family out there?" Scott tried to reason.

"I have family _here_, Scott!" Jackson snarled, a jagged spike of fear hitting Scott straight in the chest, making him wince in sympathy for Jackson. "I have parents, and I have Lydia. This pack... I don't need anyone else." He could hear the pleading in his own voice but there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Scott moved closer, stopping before he reached Jackson, whose hand was white-knuckling the door handle.

"No one is saying that, okay? You're ours, Jackson. Have been and always will be. You having a brother doesn't negate that. But, if you wanted to know him, to let him know you... You can do that. It's one hundred percent up to you. Derek said that this guy, he doesn't know anything other than that one of our betas kind of looks like him." Scott assured him. "If you want us to keep it that way, that's fine. You guys don't have to meet, you don't have to talk, hell you don't even have to be in the same room. But you deserve to know that he's out there, Jackson."

Jackson blinked back the stinging in his eyes, fighting a losing war against his wolf and the shift rippling beneath his skin. "I can't do this, Scott. I can't-"

"Go." Scott ordered, jerking his head in the direction of the forest surrounding the house. "I've got Lydia, just go."

Jackson was gone in flash, his blurred shape disappearing through the doorway before Scott could blink. Heaving a heavy sigh, Scott scrubbed a hand through his hair and headed for the porch where a no doubt extremely agitated redhead was waiting.

* * *

"Do you take sugar in your coffee?" Felicity called from her kitchen, voice carrying through to the living room where Stiles had folded himself comfortably into one corner of her couch.

"Two please." Stiles called back, tapping out an obligatory _"I'm fine. As fine as I was twenty minutes ago. Stop pacing."_ response to Derek's inquiring text.

Felicity appeared in the doorway carrying with her a tray laden with two mugs and a plate full of cookies. Chocolate chip oatmeal, Stiles noted with a rumble in his stomach. He couldn't help it if he had an appetite comparable to that of an entire pack of wolves. It was a side effect of the magic, a way for his body to try and balance out the expulsion of so much energy by taking in way more than an average human could possibly use in a week's time.

"He freaking out?" Felicity asked, setting the tray on the coffee table and dipping her chin at the cellphone laying quietly in Stiles' lap.

Stiles nodded, a small smile pulling up the corners of his mouth. "Little bit. Wouldn't be Derek if he wasn't."

"I'm familiar with the type." Felicity laughed lightly, settling on the opposite side of the couch, body angled toward him.

Stiles chewed the inside of his cheek to stop his mouth from splitting into a full blown grin. "Oliver a bit overprotective, too?" he questioned, quirking a brow as he grabbed a few cookies from the tray.

"Oh, you don't even know the half of it." Felicity sighed, cupping her hands around her mug. "Though, to be completely fair, he's gotten better with it. Back in the beginning he wouldn't even let me into the field without a fight. Now that I've got some training under my belt he's not quite as..."

"Stifling?" Stiles supplied, swallowing down most of an entire cookie.

Felicity huffed a laugh. "That's one word for it."

"I get it." Stiles told her after taking a sip of his coffee. "When Derek and I met, I didn't have my magic yet. Well, that's not entirely accurate. I had it, I just didn't know it. As far as Derek was concerned, I was just Scott's annoying, fragile human best friend. I think if he could have gotten away with locking me up every time the pack got into something, he probably would have."

"All of this," Felicity waved a hand at the air, a gesture Stiles assumed was meant to encompass all things magic and supernatural. "How did it all happen?" Felicity queried. "I mean, from the sound of it, this isn't how you grew up, right? So, how did you get all tangled up with werewolves and Harpies and whatever the hell a Kanima is? If you don't mind me asking." she added, realizing that maybe she was being nosier than their new friendship allowed.

"Not at all." Stiles let himself grin then, memories flooding through him, warming him. "It's kind of a long story, totally convoluted and absolutely horrifying in places." he warned.

Felicity just snuggled into the sofa more deeply, eyebrows lifted expectantly.

"Right." Stiles chuckled. "Okay, well, it started before Derek and I even knew each other. Like, way before. He lost most of his family in a fire when he was a teenager. A psychotic bitch of a hunter trapped them inside their home and had it torched. Derek and his sister, Laura, were at a friend's house that night, so they were spared. The only survivors were their Uncle Peter and their younger sister, Cora, but no one knew about her until years later."

He paused to make sure Felicity was alright, knowing how horrible this story was to hear for the first time. She was listening intently, though, her eyes clouded with sympathy but steeled to hear the rest.

Stiles continued, "Peter was burned over more than half of his body. He slipped into this vegetative type state, trapped inside his own mind and the burnt shell of who he used to be. That kind of trauma... It changes a person, you know? Peter wasn't exactly benevolent before the fire, but that night snapped something inside him. Beacon Hills was quiet for a long time, just a normal, quiet little town. Derek and Laura were in New York, Peter was in town but he was in the hospital, the hunters were gone... It wasn't until Scott got bit that all Hell broke loose."

"McCall, right?" Felicity asked, remembering the other Alpha's profile from her perusal of the database.

"The one and only." Stiles smiled, all affection. "We've been joined at the hip since the sandbox. If one of us was into it, the other wasn't far behind. Anyway, there was an ill-advised trip into the woods in search of a body-" Felicity's eyebrows shot up and Stiles snorted, "Don't ask." before he picked up the thread of his story, "It was the middle of the night, and we didn't know that there were bigger, badder things in the dark to be afraid of than just my dad and his deputies. Long story short, Scott got bitten by a rogue Alpha and turned into a werewolf. Derek came back from New York looking for Laura, only to find out that the Alpha that turned Scott was only an Alpha because they'd killed Laura and stole her power. It gets worse." Stiles warned when Felicity's face registered her shock.

"Seriously?" she balked.

"So much worse." Stiles shook his head. "So, Scott hated being a wolf at first. He thought it made him evil or whatever. Which is ridiculous because Scott is the best, most genuinely good fucking person you'll probably ever meet. Regardless, he resented the bite. It probably didn't help that we were convinced that Derek was the one who killed Laura, subsequently getting him arrested by my dad and pinning a target on his back.

As it turned out, Peter was actually the one dropping bodies. He'd regained his mobility and lured Laura back just to kill her. Unfortunately, he'd also lured back the Argent hunters. It all kind of devolved into a massive shitfest after that.

Scott fell in love with Allison Argent. Really sweet girl, actually, once you get past the last name. Uh, where was I? Oh, right. Derek almost died a bunch of times, Allison's Aunt Kate turned out to be the one who killed Derek's family, half of our pack was almost killed in the fallout after Peter managed to rip out Kate's throat, and Allison's grandfather turned her temporarily insane.

The only good things to come out of that particular war were Derek killing Peter and inheriting Laura's Alpha powers, and me discovering my magic."

"What was that like?" Felicity asked curiously. "I can't imagine waking up one day and just... BAM! You're magic."

Stiles let out a laugh, scrubbing the back of his knuckles along the edge of his chin. "It was definitely weird." he agreed. "But, it wasn't all at once. It started out small, with me just being able to cast a mountain ash circle when we needed one and little things like that. It took years for me to become the mage I am now, to earn my place as the Hale-McCall emissary and do things like this."

Felicity's eyes widened in shock, gaze fixed in amazement at the undulating ball of blue flames held in Stiles' open hand. "Wow." she breathed.

Curling his fingers into his palm to extinguish the flame, Stiles smiled. "I know, right? That was pretty much me for the first few months. I had a hard time believing that I had all this power inside me, this well of dormant energy that everyone kept telling me I was born with... But, eventually, I realized that having this power, learning how to wield it the right way, gave me the ability to help my pack, my family, in ways I never could before. And then..."

"You don't have to tell me." Felicity told him apologetically, reaching out to clasp her fingers around Stiles' hand. She could read something on his face, something in his eyes that told her that whatever he was going to say was hard for him. "I shouldn't pry like this, I'm sorry."

"No, it's not that." Stiles shook his head, squeezing her fingers in reassurance. "It's just... I lost my mother when I was younger."

Felicity's eyes went soft and sad, but she didn't offer condolences. She just waited, ready to listen.

Stiles found himself wanting to tell her, trusting her instinctively to take what he shared and keep it close. "Scott's boss, Deaton, is a Druid. It's kind of like a mage, but their magic is drawn from the earth rather than being inherently theirs. Deaton's sort of my magical mentor, I guess. He's the one who taught me how to use my powers, how to control them."

"If his magic is different, how did he know how to teach you?" Felicity questioned, her hand still wrapped around his.

Stiles' eyes glittered with something akin to pride. "That, my dear Bombshell Genius, was exactly my question. Apparently Deaton had just been waiting for me to ask, per instructions given to him by my mother."

Felicity made a tiny gasping sound. "He knew her?"

"He did." Stiles nodded, smiling a little sadly. "They were friends, both acting consultants to the Hale pack back in the day. Turns out that Derek's mother, Talia, and my mom were really good friends, too. They grew up together, you know? They were pack." Stiles' eyes watered and he rolled his lips between his teeth, forcing back the swell of emotion that always accompanied the retelling of this story.

Felicity had tears in her eyes by then, too. She'd shifted closer on the sofa, her knees pressed into Stiles' thigh, offering the comfort of proximity and silent support.

"My mother was an extremely powerful mage. Our magic has been passed down through the ages, growing and evolving with each generation." Stiles explained. "Unfortunately, even magic as powerful as ours has its limits. Talia offered my mom the bite when it turned out that our magic couldn't save her. But, the bite doesn't always take. It either turns you or it kills you, and my mom wasn't one of the lucky ones.

So, Talia and Deaton both promised to teach me when the time came. Talia was killed before she could keep that promise, before I was old enough to ask. If it weren't for Deaton, I never would have known about that part of my mother's life.

My dad... He knew about all of it, but after she died it was like he couldn't think about it, you know? Like magic had let her die and he blamed it for her having to leave us. It wasn't easy, telling him that I followed in her footsteps."

"And now?" Felicity prodded gently.

"Now? I think he's realized that I'm going to do whatever it takes to protect my pack and the people I love, and that magic lets me do that. He can look at me now and not just see what happened to my mom, but who I am because of her, because half of me is her."

"And Derek's stopped trying to lock you up away from all the action." Felicity noted, one corner of her mouth twitching.

Stiles let out a watery laugh. "For the most part, yeah. That took a lot longer, though. Right up until he watched me single-handedly destroy a Japanese fox demon that tried to worm its way into my head."

"I don't know what the appropriate level of astonishment is for something like that, but I can tell you that on a scale of one to ten, I am at a solid 'Holy shit that sounds impressive'." Felicity grinned, relaxing a little and giving him a congratulatory thump on the leg.

"Well, I mean, not to brag or anything, but destroying a demon is hella difficult. Almost impossible, really." Stiles shrugged carelessly but his eyes were full of light again.

"Color me suitably awed." Felicity smiled at him, friendly and open.

They fell into easier conversation after that, swapping stories and experiences with easy familiarity. Stiles found that they were quick to settle into a comfortable camaraderie, spilling secrets and confidences without a second thought. They'd established a solid sense of trust between them and it was simple, natural.

They talked about the pack and Felicity's team, about their families and the families they'd chosen. Felicity told Stiles about her relationship with Oliver, about the barrier between them that seemed to be slowly crumbling. She told him about the time before she knew who Oliver really was, when he would come to her with poorly thought out lies and barely concealed truths, how she'd thought he was charming and dangerous, trustworthy despite his ridiculous lies. She told Stiles about how she and Oliver always seemed to save each other, in all the most important ways.

Stiles told Felicity about he and Derek, how they'd hated each other in the beginning and then fallen in love somewhere along the way without either of them noticing. He told her about the day Scott locked them both in the bank vault and refused to let them out until they stopped fighting long enough to admit how much they cared about each other. How Scott whined for a month afterward, claiming to have been scarred for life by the sight and smell of them when he finally let them out.

They traded their versions of war stories, spoke of love and loss, the ghosts that haunted them and the future possibilities that did the same.

By the time they lost steam, seemingly having hit every possible topic of conversation in the universe, Stiles' eyes were heavy.

"I'd better get going." he yawned, pushing himself up from the couch with noodley limbs. "The pack will be here in the morning and the odds of them letting me sleep in are approximately zero to never gonna happen."

"Let me grab my keys, I'll give you a ride." Felicity halted him before he could call for a cab.

Stiles grinned his thanks.

"This was fun." he told her when she dropped him off at the hotel, ignoring Derek waiting at the door for him. "We should do it again sometime. Maybe after all this bloodshed is over."

"Definitely." Felicity beamed, reaching across the console to pull him into a hug. "Call me tomorrow, after the pack gets settled. Oliver and I have to be at the office until one, but after that we should probably get everyone together."

Stiles nodded as he climbed out of the car. "Will do, Gorgeous."

Derek was on him before Felicity even made it out of the hotel driveway, his face mashed into the slope of Stiles' neck, his arms banded around his waist.

"Not that I don't appreciate the groping, but could you stop growling? It tickles." Stiles teased, wrapping his arms around Derek's neck to pull him closer.

"Shut up." Derek grunted, snuffling Stiles' throat. He made a disgruntled sound, low and a bit whiny, making Stiles' chest rumble with laughter.

"Let me guess." Stiles sighed exaggeratedly, rubbing his cheek in Derek's hair. "Lilacs?"


	7. Meet The Pack

"Oliver."

Startling slightly, in and of itself enough to tell Felicity that he was distracted, Oliver sat a bit straighter on the corner of Felicity's desk and aimed for casual, arms crossed over his chest and one ankle hooked around the other.

"Hmm?" he tried, brows up and eyes wide over a mouth with lips curled inward.

Felicity made a disbelieving sound, a scoff and a laugh all rolled up in one. "Want to just tell me what's on your mind?" she asked, giving him a quick side-eye before returning her eyes to the tablet in her lap. "We both know you'll feel better if you do."

Oliver bit his lips together tighter for a moment, and Felicity could feel his eyes on her. It was almost a physical weight, the way he watched her. She wrestled back a shiver and tried to focus on the database in her lap, on memorizing all the pack members Stiles had told her were coming into Starling City.

"I was just." Oliver started, stopped. Felicity waited patiently. "How was coffee, last night? With Stiles."

Ah, there it was.

Felicity waited a beat, then set aside her tablet. She turned her chair to face Oliver more directly, her eyes soft and understanding.

She got it. Really and truly, she understood. After the small handful of years that had passed since that single, ill-fated date, nothing between them had changed. Oliver was still in love with Felicity and she with him, and somehow it just never seemed to be the right time.

They had the dance memorized by now, this back and forth waltz that never actually went anywhere. It was almost a routine, the way they circled one another, too distant to come together and too close to fall apart. It was an endless cycle of frustration and unwavering affection, and neither of them seemed capable, or motivated enough, to break their way out of it.

Oliver never really dated anymore, not since he told Felicity that he loved her, in reverse. Felicity, on the other hand, dated every now and then. She dated Barry for a little while, but that was never anything more than a bit of fun between friends. She'd briefly dated Ray Palmer, but... Well, that could have ended better. After Ray, there had been a few forgettable dalliances, but nothing ever stuck.

In all honesty, Felicity simply found it unfair to potential love interests to let herself believe any relationship she had, any relationship that wasn't with Oliver, had any serious potential. Somehow, it always came back to her hooded-hero and the feelings they couldn't dig themselves out from beneath.

Still, Felicity tried. And with every single attempt, Oliver would put on the mask, pretend he didn't care that she wasn't with him. He would play up the supportive friend role, the "I just want what's best for you" angle. He would tell her she looked beautiful when she went out on dates, while trying and failing to hide the sadness in his eyes. He would play as nice as was possible for him whenever she brought a date around their friends, though she tried not to do that if it was avoidable. Oliver was perfectly polite when it happened, though, more than Felicity could have hoped given their situation. But then, with every inevitable break-up, Oliver would be just a smidgen too pleased to have Felicity back and all to himself, even if he didn't have her in the way he truly wanted her.

It was second nature by then, a pattern neither of them truly felt compelled to break.

"Coffee was good." Felicity told Oliver, her head resting back on her chair. "Great, even. Stiles is an amazing guy, you know? I think we'll be really good friends after all of this."

Oliver's face went all hopeful with that, though he tried to hide it. "Friends?"

"Oliver." Felicity couldn't help but laugh under her breath, eyes rolling in their sockets. "You do realize that Stiles and Derek are together, right? Like,_together_, together. They're practically married. Actually, if I understand it correctly, in the eyes of Supernatural Law they actually _are_ married."

Oliver frowned a little, his head tilted as he thought over what little he'd seen of the two them. "That... Actually makes a lot of sense." he finally said.

Felicity laughed again, this time a full, tinkling laugh that Oliver couldn't help but grin at. "For someone whose ability to read people is a point of pride, that really should have been obvious, Oliver."

"Yeah," Oliver conceded with a frown, "it probably should have been. I guess I was just distracted by-"

"Jealousy?" Felicity offered, one brow arched high above the frame of her glasses.

Oliver smiled sheepishly and sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. "Maybe." he admitted. "Stiles is smart, Felicity, nearly as smart as you are. He understands all your techno babble and I... Don't. And, he is _literally_ magic. I know all of this supernatural stuff fascinates you, and that Stiles is more than willing to share it with you. Is it so far out of the realm of possibility that you and he might hit it off?"

"Not at all." Felicity allowed. "But, there are two pretty major flaws in your argument." she smirked, spinning her chair the couple of inches it took so that her feet bumped his, her eyes sparkling with what Oliver thought looked a lot like flirtation. "The first is that Stiles and Derek are so adorably in love with one another, I'm not even sure that I'd register on either of their radar."

"You register on everyone's radar, Felicity." Oliver threw in, leaning forward a bit, his fingers curled around the edge of her desk as he leaned into her space.

Rolling her eyes again, Felicity waved that off. "Shut up, you get the point."

"I refuse to believe it, but I'll allow the argument." Oliver chuckled. "What's the second one?"

"The second, would be you." Felicity informed him, her eyes steady as they met his.

Oliver's heart stuttered, his gaze sweeping over her face, drinking in all the little details he'd memorized ages ago. "Me, huh?" he asked, voice carrying a hint of breathlessness.

This blatant teasing was new, the total opposite of the way their relationship normally worked. They'd built a solid foundation based on feigned ignorance and determined avoidance, save for the rare moments of weakness. This- Felicity angling her body toward him, so close that Oliver could feel the heat her skin was throwing off; The way she was looking at him, all open affection and honesty -it made Oliver's stomach flip with nervous, hopeful anticipation.

"Don't gloat, Oliver." Felicity's mouth curled at the corners, her pink-painted lips curving attractively. "It's not an attractive quality, especially in a superhero."

Oliver cocked a brow, leaning in so that he was almost bent over her, his tongue flicking out to moisten his lips.

Felicity's eyes fell to track the motion. She swallowed hard, her cheeks staining as she shook her head, like she was trying to shake herself back into the reality of their situation. "I, uh- We should probably- Do you want to call Stiles? Or, I... I should probably call. The pack got in this morning, and I told Stiles we'd meet them around two-ish. You think we should grab food for everybody? How much can werewolves eat, anyway? Maybe we should do this at the Foundry, instead-"

Oliver's mouth pulled up at the corners as he watched her become more and more flustered, her chest rising and falling in rapid shifts.

"Felicity."

Her head snapped up from where she'd been scrolling through her contacts, her pupils blown wide and bottom lip snagged in her teeth.

"It's you, too." he told her softly, his expression serious. "You know that, right?"

Felicity searched his face, her heart thudding a heavy rhythm beneath her ribs. "Yeah." she eventually murmured, soft and vulnerable, and so painfully honest. "Yeah, I know."

* * *

"I feel like I should ask one more time," Scott said, his voice ringing clear with apprehension as he climbed out of the driver's seat of his SUV, "are we sure about this? You're positive that this isn't a trap, right? We're not, like, handing ourselves over to be wolf-kabobs or whatever?"

The pack assembled slowly, each member sliding out of one of the two SUVs they'd taken to the meeting.

"Really, Scott?" Stiles asked, head tilted in fond exasperation. "Wolf-kabobs?"

"Hey, man, you never know!" Scott defended, his frown deep and eyes serious as he looked up at the warehouse Felicity had texted them the address of. "What do we really know about these people, Stiles?"

Allison appeared at Scott's side, a warm, reassuring presence. She curled into his side as Isaac fell into place on the opposite side, his entire body broadcasting how relaxed he was. Stiles was grateful that Isaac felt comfortable with Felicity and Oliver, and hoped that he would send that calming energy through his bond to Allison and Scott.

"We know that Felicity figured out we were dealing with a Harpy." Derek tossed in, slipping an arm around Stiles' shoulders as he came to a stop beside him.

"You just took her at her word?" Lydia questioned, eyeballing the building warily. "That's not like you."

Stiles didn't hear anything other than genuine curiosity, but the question still made him bristle. "I independently verified her findings, but yeah, pretty much. Look, I know that with our history, you guys are wary. But, we can trust Felicity." he told his pack, looking around the loose cluster of them to meet each of their eyes. "Her team, too."

"If they wanted to hurt us they would have done it already." Derek reasoned as he pulled Stiles closer to his side. "They've had plenty of chances."

"Awesome, can we go in now?" Erica huffed, tugging Boyd along beside her as she shuffled closer to the building's entrance. "We look ridiculous standing around out here like idiots."

With an eye roll that was more body roll than anything, Stiles led Derek inside and across the lobby to the bank of elevators on the far side. There weren't any other people in the lobby, but Stiles didn't really expect there to be. From what Felicity had said the night before, Oliver owned the building. His apartment took up the entire top floor, and the only other residents in the refurbished warehouse were Roy and Oliver's sister, Thea, a few floors below. Stiles felt a burning desire to point out the similarities between where Oliver chose to set up residence and the loft Derek lived in until the Hale house had been rebuilt. Given Derek's reticence at being compared to Oliver, Stiles valiantly resisted the urge.

"Here goes nothing." Stiles muttered, earning himself a grin from Derek as the elevator's door clanged open to reveal a large open space that seemed to serve as a foyer of sorts.

"Stiles, Derek." Oliver greeted as he stepped into view, reaching a hand out to shakes first Stiles', then Derek's hand, his gaze sweeping over the rest of the pack where they were gathered behind them. "Come in."

Stiles threaded his fingers with Derek's and tugged him into the open foyer, pleased when the rest of the pack filed in behind them. "Sorry we're a little late." Stiles apologized as he followed Oliver down a wide hallway. "We had a few issues to sort out."

Oliver tossed a small smile over his shoulder, "Don't worry about it. Felicity just got here, herself."

"Are John and Roy here?" Stiles asked, eyes flicking back to where Jackson was pressed into Lydia's side, his jaw clenched and ticking with nerves.

Oliver followed Stiles' gaze, his eyes widening a fraction before he schooled his expression. "We thought it might be a good idea for Roy and Thea to hang back a little, just until your pack adjusts. John and his wife, Lyla, are here, though."

Relief rippled through the pack bond like a healing balm, soothing and warm. Stiles wasn't sure exactly where it originated, but he was glad for it all the same. Jackson was still wary of meeting his brother, of even believing Roy existed at all, and springing the two of them on each other had disaster written all over it. Being in foreign territory was difficult enough without adding fuel to the fire.

"Stiles!" Felicity's beaming face was the first thing Stiles saw when they rounded the corner into an open concept living room. She was sitting on the arm of an over-sized chair, her feet on its cushion, but she shoved herself up when the pack filed in. "Derek, Isaac, nice to see you again."

"Felicity." Derek's expression stayed smooth but a spike of warmth caught Stiles by surprise, and he had a feeling it surprised Derek even more. Apparently it was just Felicity's scent on Stiles' skin that Derek disliked, not the woman herself. Stiles poked Derek in the ribs, earning himself a huff and an eye roll, and found himself absurdly pleased to know that Derek was warming up to Felicity.

Introductions took longer than Stiles expected, but he was happy to sit back and watch as Derek took the lead. Pride poured out of Derek with each member of his pack he introduced to the Starling City team, familial affection woven through each of their names as he said them out loud. Stiles' heart sat full and light in his chest by the time Derek finished running through their roster.

Felicity, unsurprisingly, took the reigns for her team. Scott's shoulders lost more and more of their tension the longer Felicity rambled on about John and Lyla, his eyes melting into soft brown puddles when Felicity mentioned their daughter, Sara.

Scott was a sucker for babies.

"So, how did the meeting with the other pack go?" Felicity asked once everyone had settled into a comfortable sprawl on various couches, chairs, and a few patches of floor.

Stiles had already filled her in on the meeting with Kiara and her pack, but he appreciated her letting Derek fill the rest of them in. It was a unifying tactic, he knew, meant to give both teams a sense of cohesion over the sharing of information.

"Kiara's pack is content to let us handle the Harpy." Derek announced from where he was seated at Stiles' feet, his back against the chair Stiles had tucked himself into. "She's not interested in involving her pack in a problem that doesn't directly effect them."

"What about the database?" Lydia asked, one brow arched in question. "She can't be pleased with that development."

When Derek didn't immediately answer, Allison sighed and Scott's brows furrowed as he said, "You didn't tell her." It wasn't a question.

"We thought it was better not to." Isaac said softly, his attention landing on Stiles for a beat before flicking away.

"I didn't see the point in causing a rift when there isn't any reason to." Derek told them, his voice holding a hint of the power underneath. "Felicity isn't going to use the database against us, and the chances of someone else breaching the site are nearly non-existent."

"That's true." Felicity nodded, her cheeks pinking prettily when every set of eyes in the room landed on her and Oliver's hand found her knee. "I- It's just... I have absolutely no intention of using the database for anything other than research if the need presents itself. And, I honestly don't know anyone else who is even capable of doing what I did."

"Still," Scott added hesitantly, looking to Derek, "don't you think she has a right to know?"

"No." Derek snapped, his eyes flashing Red.

Stiles pushed calming energy at Derek, watched as his shoulders slumped and he leaned back into the hand Stiles curled around the back of his neck. "It's because of me, Scott." he announced, his thumb never ceasing its soothing rub at the base of Derek's skull.

"What, why?" Scott asked, clearly baffled.

"Because I'm the one that created the database, bro." Stiles explained. "If Kiara found out that I let someone hack it, that the site isn't as secure as Danny and I promised it would be? If other factions found out?"

Stiles saw the moment Scott understood. "Oh."

"That's a reasonable assumption, actually." Lyla admitted, her expression soft, though Stiles could see the razor blades beneath.

She had adjusted seamlessly to the existence of werewolves, a fact that hadn't gone unnoticed by Stiles. To him, that either meant that she was the roll-with-the-punches type, or she'd already been aware of their reality. Stiles, running on pure intuition, was willing to bet on the latter.

"If someone hacked an A.R.G.U.S database-" Felicity cleared her throat, "who wasn't a member of my team," Lyla qualified, "-we would have no choice but to put them down. What you guys are talking about, though... That's about a thousand times worse. You'd have risked more than just national security by that database getting into the wrong hands."

Felicity paled, her eyes swimming beneath her glasses. "Oh my God, Stiles, I am so sorry! I had no idea-"

"It's not your fault, Felicity." Derek told her, his tone reassuring. "Of course you didn't know. But, that's why we aren't mentioning it to anyone outside of this room. Understood?"

Nods and murmurs of assent filled the room, Felicity's team apparently as eager to protect Stiles as the pack was.

As if on cue the wolves raised their heads in perfect tandem, their attention fixed toward the hallway they'd followed from the elevators.

"Did someone order food?" Isaac asked hopefully, his nose in the air, sniffing curiously.

"Oh!" Felicity jumped up from the arm of Oliver's chair. "That was me. I figured you guys would probably be hungry, and I've always found it easier to strategize on a full stomach. I hope everyone likes Mexican!" she called over her shoulder as she ducked into the hall.

"I love Mexican." Isaac called back as he rose from the couch beside Scott to follow her.

Stiles smiled fondly after them, startling slightly when Oliver spoke.

"Lunch, then we figure out our next move?" he asked, respectfully aiming his question at Derek and then Scott.

Scott nodded his agreement as Derek said, "Fair enough.", and Stiles could feel it when the last of the tension seeped out of Derek's spine.

"Oliver?" Jackson's voice was small in a way the pack hadn't heard since before the Kanima fiasco, his hand firmly clasped around Lydia's much smaller one. "Could I talk to you, privately, before we eat?"

"Sure." Oliver agreed without a second's hesitation, having expected Jackson's request. Pushing himself up from his seat, Oliver tilted his head in beckoning, "My office is just down the hall?"

Jackson nodded curtly but stood, pulling Lydia with him and falling into step behind Oliver as he exited the room.

Derek leaned his head back into the chair Stiles was sitting in, his head resting beside Stiles' hip as he looked up. "That could have gone worse." Derek almost whispered, under no illusions that the wolves couldn't hear him if they were listening.

Stiles sighed and combed his fingers through Derek's hair, his body humming with an energy he couldn't explain. He looked down at Derek, a wry smile twisting his lips as he warned, "Yeah, well, it isn't over yet."


End file.
